Authors: Mary Cummins
He kissed her gently, and she closed the door as quietly as she could, then turned as a ghostly figure glided down the stairs.
“For heaven’s sake, Sylvia, haven’t you got a wa
rn
er dressing-gown than that piece of lace?” Merry asked crossly.
“It isn’t cold,” said Sylvia. “And, anyway, I want a hot drink, too. Was it nice?”
“Very.”
“Your other boy-friend didn’t stay long. He’s quite sweet, really, though not nearly so nice as Nigel.”
“He's not my other boy-friend,” said Merry, sharply. “As a matter of fact, he and Stephanie are friends.”
“Ah, I see,” said Sylvia thoughtfully. “She’ll be lucky if she gets him. He looks like one of those self-sufficient types, if you ask me.”
Merry didn’t want to discuss Benjamin, or Nigel, with her cousin.
“Sorry, Sylvia,” she said, “
I’m
awfully
ti
red. I'll see you at breakfast.”
“O.K.,” said Sylvia lightly, and watched Merry walk upstairs. She had changed a lot, thought Sylvia, and wondered if Merry realised it. She’d always been inclined to be a bit of a mouse, but now she had a new authority about her. Merry was someone to be reckoned with now, and if Sylvia wanted anything which didn’t meet
with
her approval, she’d have a fight on her hands.
There was an air of excitement about her, as she, too, climbed the stairs, and she had never looked lovelier. Having to fight for what she wanted might
be
...
quite a lot of fun!
Despite disruptions in the house, Merry’s book began to make progress, though she knew it was essential not to spend too much time at her desk, but to try to go for a walk when she could.
She had not seen Benjamin since the night she went out with Nigel, and a sudden longing to talk to him again assailed her. Sylvia had gone to Hillington for the day, deciding that she needed some clothes, and Merry felt light and free as she took the winding road to the Cot House.
“I shall go away, if you
’r
e busy,” she told Benjamin, when he opened the door. “I’ve an errand in the village, in any case, for Mrs. Cameron.”
“I’m fairly busy,” Benjamin admitted honestly, “but don’t go running away. It’s seldom the Cot House is honoured.”
Merry had got used to Benjamin’s turn of phrase now, and only nodded as she made her way to the settee in front of the fire. His working section of the room was littered with open books and papers, and she saw he was busy on a line and wash drawing at his board.
“My weekly comic strip,” he told her. “Nearly finished, though. How’s the book?”
“Progressing,” she assured him. “I can’t judge it, though. It may be pretty poor stuff.”
“Are you any good on children’s stories?” asked Benjamin, as he switched on the kettle, and lifted down two beakers. Merry enjoyed his strong brew, and knew better than to offer to help.
“What sort of stories?” she asked.
“Oh, books for the little ones. I’ve wondered sometimes if it wouldn’t be fun to do one, only I couldn’t write the story. They aren’t easy, though people don’t always realise that. How about it, Merry?”
“You mean collaborate on a children’s story book?” she asked, her eyes beginning to sparkle. “I could do the story, and you could illustrate it.” She paused thoughtfully. “That would be a lot of fun.
But..
.”
“Fifty-fifty,” said Benjamin promptly.
“I happen to know that wouldn’t be fair,” said Merry knowledgeably. “The illustrations sell that sort of story. They’re most important.”
“Let’s see how we go,” suggested Benjamin. “Shall we try it?”
“Done,” she agreed, and held out her hand, feeling her heart lurch as he grasped it in his strong,' lean fingers. For a moment he caressed her fingers, then dropped her hand and filled up the beakers with tea.
“Is your cousin still here?”
Merry nodded. “She likes it, strange as it may seem. Sylvia has usually been a town girl, and loves a busy social life, but she’s finding Ki
l
braggan far from quiet. She might even stay for Christmas, and if so, Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle George may come, too. I used to live with them, you know.”
“But you like it better on your own?” asked Benjamin, and Merry nodded.
“Does it sound selfish of me? I loved having the house to myself, and being by myself whenever I wanted. I can’t think or work with people around, and my work is becoming important to me.”
“More important than marriage when the time comes?” asked Benjamin.
She hesitated, her face thoughtful, before replying:
“No ... No, I don’t think so. It would depend on how much I loved ...
someone
...
If I cared about a man, he would come first.”
“Lucky chap,” said Benjamin, “and adult views from a young girl.” His voice became teasing. “Anyone special in mind?”
“I’ll have to wait till I’m asked,” she said laughingly, matching his light mood. “Anyway, I shall leave you to your work. Thank you for the tea. Shall I let you have some small stories soon?”
“Please,” agreed Benjamin. “Five-to eight-year-olds would be best.”
Merry’s step was light as she left the Cot
House and walked towards Isa Campbell’s cottage, with a message from Mrs. Cameron.
“Come awa’ ben, Miss Merry,” the woman greeted her, as she knocked on the door. “I’m fair pleased to see you. Get down, Cailleach
!”
The little dog was jumping round Merry excitedly, and she bent to stroke the shaggy coat while the soft dark eyes regarded her eagerly. “Is she none the worse, Mrs. Campbell?”
“None the worse, thank goodness,” Isa told her. “Thanks to you. Thon tinkers are awa’ noo, Miss Merry, and good riddance. If it hadn’t been for you, dear knows where my wee dog would have been.”
Merry sat down on a comfortable old chair by the fire, and delivered Mrs. Cameron’s message to her sister.
“Bessie is going to help with the Church Bazaar at Christmas, then,” she said. “That’s good. Her ginger cake and shortbread aye go well. I like Christmas. It fair brightens the place up after autumn. We could sometimes do wi’ a few more social events, though I believe there’s a dance or two organised, and we might see a bit of excitement when Miss Kilpatrick gets married.”
Merry blinked a little with surprise. “Married?” she asked.
“Och, my tongue runs away wi’ me at times,” said Isa Campbell, confused. “We’re no supposed to ken anything aboot it. It’s just that I’ve
a cousin, Jeanie Lumsden, works for them, and Miss Stephanie aye gives her her old magazines to bring to me. She had a nice posh fashion one, and all the wedding dresses were marked with pencil, so it looks like something’s in the wind, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” agreed Merry in a small voice.
Why hadn’t Benjamin told her, she wondered, instead of making plans for collaborating with her over a child’s book? Knowing Stephanie, she wouldn’t relish such co-operation between her new husband and another girl, however innocent it would be.
Merry rose, accepting a small basket of eggs that Mrs. Campbell had ready for her sister.
“I’d better make tracks for home,” she said, with a small smile. “It gets dark so early at the moment. Cheerio, Mrs. Campbell.”
“Daunder doon again, Miss Merry,” the older
woman told her. “We don’t see enough of you
these days, and we fair miss Miss Ellen. One or
twa folk were asking if ye’d gie them a wee keek in.
”
“I’ll make a point of coming later in the week,” promised Merry.
But her thoughts were all for Benjamin, as she walked home in the gloaming. She was nearing the turn off along the loch-side, and nostalgia gripped her as she remembered clinging, frightened, to the rough tweed of Benjamin’s jacket, and breathing in the clean sweetness of
him as he held her close. He’d been angry, but deep down she knew that his rage, had been based on fear for her.
Now, with almost unbearable longing, she wanted to feel his arms round her again. There would be such peace and security in her heart, if
only... if only...
Merry forced back the tears, as she realised what these feelings for Benjamin meant. She loved him with all her heart. He was the one man for whom she would be willing to give up everything, even her very life. Yet he belonged to another girl, and Merry scrubbed her eyes vigorously at the thought. If Stephanie hadn’t really loved him, Merry would have felt differently about that, but she was sure Stephanie did love him, and would want to make him happy.
“I only want him to be happy,” she told herself, aloud, as she turned in the drive of Beau Ness. “J
u
st so long as Benjamin is happy
...”
Merry had barely taken her coat off and delivered the eggs to Mrs. Cameron, together with all the news which Mrs. Campbell had asked her to pass on, when car wheels crunched in the drive.
“That’s Joe Weir’s auld taxi again,” said Mrs. Cameron. “I ken it a mile awa’.”
A moment later a radiantly happy Sylvia
danced in, a large number of packages in her arms.
“What a marvellous day I’ve had
!”
she cried, dropping her parcels on to the settee. “I’ve got the most gorgeous little suit, and a heavenly dress which will be perfect for the jewellery cocktail party. Nigel said I could come to that. Oh, and here’s a scarf for you, Merry, and something for Mrs. Cameron.”
“Och, you shouldn’t spend your money on me, Miss Sylvia,” protested Mrs. Cameron, opening her small parcel to find a neat little bottle of perfume. “Oh, isn’t it bonny?” she exclaimed, sniffing and trying it
o
ut on her blouse. “Just like flowers. Thank you very much, Miss Sylvia.”
“Are they early Christmas gifts or something?” laughed Merry, trying on her gay woollen scarf.
“Just wait till I try on my dress and suit,” Sylvia told her, disappearing upstairs, while Mrs. Cameron shook her head and Merry turned her eyes up to the ceiling. Their visit to Rossie House had been postponed until Saturday as the Kilpatrick were very busy with a pre-Christmas rush, and Sylvia was full of impatience.
“Tea’s going to be late this day,” Mrs. Cameron forecast. “We’ll never get that lass at the table under half an hour
!”
The dress and suit were beautiful, and Merry examined both of them critically, then admiringly.
“They’re lovely, Sylvia,” she told her cousin. “Where did you get them?”
“Well...” For
the first time a rather guarded look came over Sylvia’s face. “Well, as a matter of fact, I went to that little boutique where you told me you bought your things ... Estelle’s.”
“Estelle’s?” cried Merry. “Then
you couldn’t have done better, though they are a bit pricey. I can’t go trotting there every day.”
Sylvia carefully hung away the suit.
“Well, I hope you don’t mind, darling,” she said airily, “that I just put these two small things on your account. I’m awfully hard up at the moment, and I do need them. I mean, you won’t want me to be shabby when we go out with your friends, will you?”
Merry was speechless for a moment, then her body began to shake with anger. Sylvia had a large dress allowance from her father, and her wardrobe had always been stuffed with clothes. She’d always had to be careful, and only managed to dress well by choosing her clothes intelligently. She’d been hoping to buy a new cocktail dress herself, and had reluctantly decided it would have to wait, and now Sylvia had used her account to buy her own clothes!
“How dare you!” she burst out at length. “You
...
with all your clothing allowance
..
. making use of my account
!”
“Well, darling,” said Sylvia sweetly, “I’m afraid Daddy and I have had a slight misunderstanding over my clothing allowance, and that’s why I decided to come and stay here for a short while, because he was just a little bit angry. Mummy quite understood, but he wouldn’t listen to us, so it’s quite true I’m hard up. And after all, darling, you got all this gorgeous house, and lots of other things besides, from Aunt Ellen, while I got nothing at all. I thought it was rather unfair, didn’t you?”
“But you didn’t mind inheriting from Aunt Julie,” retorted Merry, her eyes sparkling, “and you were pretty scathing about Beau Ness any time we came to stay. I seem to remember that it was a backwater, and you wouldn’t be seen dead in it.”
“My mature taste hadn’t developed,” explained Sylvia. “I like it much better now.”
“Perhaps you would also like to share the cost of the upkeep,” suggested Merry. “No, my dear, you can jolly well pay for your own clothes, or take them back.”
“You’re tired, Merry,” said Sylvia placatingly. “We’ll talk about it another time, shall we?” Carefully she folded away her new purchases “Now, what’s for tea
?
I’m starving
!”
On Saturday evening Nigel came over to collect Merry and Sylvia, and take them back to Rossie House. Stephanie had arranged a small party, and one or two young people from Kil
p
atricks were also there. Mr. Kilpatrick was not present because he had flown over to Ireland on business.
Sylvia wore her new suit, and looked breathtakingly beautiful. Merry saw Nigel blink, then reluctant admiration fill his eyes when he saw her, but it did not hurt as it might have done. She knew now that she had never been really in love with Nigel, nor, she was sure, did he truly love her. They had been greatly attracted to each other, but it had been a lukewarm affair compared to the deep, passionate, lasting love which she was beginning to feel for Benjamin. She was going to need all her courage and determination to control her feelings for him, knowing he could never care for her in return.
Merry sighed. She was again wearing her russet suit which looked charming, but which Rossie House was beginning to know very well, and for a brief moment she allowed herself a pang of anger and resentment against Sylvia. She had received her statement of account from Estelle’s and had gasped when she saw what she had to pay, going in search of Sylvia.
“I think it’s about time I told you exactly how our finances at Beau Ness are managed,” she said crisply, “and how much money Aunt Ellen left to cover all expenses.”