Brittle Bondage (5 page)

He strode out and down the corridor to the study. To Venetia the crack of the door held the finality of a pistol-shot. She would have given anything, just then, to be ten years older and ten thousand miles from Bondolo.

CHAPTER FIVE

AFTER dinner Blake sent her straight to bed with whisky and aspirin. There was nothing thoughtful or kind in his manner; he was merely sensibly warding off a chill. Next morning he breakfasted early and rode off alone, and Venetia was left to wander unhappily through the house and grounds. That day and others passed like a procession of cold, lonely dreams. Blake, polite and withdrawn, worked all the daylight hours and spent the evenings in the study. Dully she wondered whether he ever re-read the last letter from her father, and what were his emotions if he did.

He still watched her health and bought a supply of books and magazines for her whenever he went to town, but he never asked for her company, and she was too fearful of rebuff to offer it. At Umsanga no one could have convinced her that Blake, the teasing, beloved comrade, would become transformed into a stony, incomprehensible guardian of her interest. Yet that was precisely what had happened. How could she bear to go on like this?

It was a Saturday morning when Thea’s letter came. Venetia had just returned from a hot and dusty ride, needing, above all else, a long drink and a change into a thin dress. If one sweated, breeches were apt to chafe round the waist. Blake was in the hall, sorting over the mail on the yellow-wood table.

“There’s one from Thea,” he said offhandedly. “It’s addressed to both of us. I’ve some others to look at, so you can read it first.”

She took it and slit the envelope with the paper-knife he pushed close. Perhaps this epistle would provide an excuse to correspond with Thea and establish contact with the woman who was now her relative. Venetia began eagerly to read.

Dear Both,—I think this will just about reach you before I do. Here’s some news, which I hope you will find good. Several weeks ago I applied for a post as Sister at the Ellisburg Hospital, but though I got the job we were so busy here that I couldn’t be spared. The thing seemed to have fallen through till yesterday, when I was informed that Ellisburg’s need of qualified nurses is tremendous and I had permission to cease duties and report to Ellisburg next Monday.

I do hope this thrills you as it does me. I shall be travelling up on Saturday in the car, and will stay two nights with you—till Monday morning. Do you realize that you’ve been married six weeks, and I’ve never yet met my own sister-in-law? It’s scandalous, and I blame you for it, Blake. You were always far too possessive. Once I’m established at Ellisburg, I intend to visit you often.

Till Saturday, Venetia. Love to you both.

Thea.

Venetia made a small sound of sudden gladness.

Blake looked up. “What is it?”

“Thea’s coming—today.”

‘Today!” His features gone angular, he grasped the letter and scanned it, crushed it up in his hand. His mouth contracted into a hard line. “How dare she do that, after I’ve warned her not to come till she’s invited!
”

“But she has to. Surely you wouldn’t have her stay at the hotel in Ellisburg?”

“I wouldn’t care where she stayed,” he bit out. “If she weren’t already on the way, I’d wire her to spend the weekend elsewhere and to blazes with what she’d think of me. We’ll give her a meal, and then I’ll take her to a friend in town for the couple of days.”

“Blake, you can’t!”

“You’d be surprised how far I can go when my wishes are ignored. I won’t have her living here!”

“But why? She’s your sister.”

Swift anger burned in his face. “If you don’t know why,” he said, with merciless candour, “there’s nothing more to discuss. I shall give Thea to understand that we don’t want her.”

Anxiety over the hurt he might inflict upon his unsuspecting sister gave her courage. Besides, she couldn’t bear to make another enemy.

“You’re fond of Thea. You made this home for the two of you, and when she went to Durban you kept her room as she likes it, so that she would always have it to come to.” Her voice quivered. “You can’t treat her so unfairly. She belongs here, Blake.”

He spoke curtly. “You’re well supplied with pride and sensibilities. You should be the last to dissuade me.”

As if to leave the matter there, he shuffled the letters into a pile. Venetia bit on her lip, and twisted towards the porch.

“So you really do intend to turn her away?”

“I do.”

“Because of me?”

“I suppose that’s what it amounts to,” he admitted, and passed through into the lounge.

Venetia paused in the doorway, her thirst and tiredness swamped in a wave of desolation and despair. To escape the oppression of the house, she went down into the garden and made her way along the path which passed the tennis-court and ended at the cement border to the swimming-pool. At her side padded the black spaniel, Binty. The dog always dragged himself to wherever she happened to be going.

Wearily she collapsed upon the sloping grass bank, rested her cheeks between her palms and gazed at the semicircle of trees which cradled the pool. They were olives and cypresses, young, vigorous trees which Blake must have planted when the pool was made. A few leaves floated on the water.

He loved this home and all the rich growth he had originated; how much more must he care for Thea, with whom he had planned to share them? But at the moment he wouldn’t allow himself to care for her.

She—Venetia—had unwittingly stepped between Blake and his sister. Blake had done what he deemed his duty, and married her; perhaps, a long time hence, she could come near to understanding him and making him happy. A long time hence. But the problem of Thea could not be shouldered off into the limbo like that. In a few hours she would pull up in the drive expecting to be welcomed. She was entitled to a warm welcome. That she should be greeted coolly and told not to unpack was unthinkable, yet Venetia was miserably certain that Blake would have no compunction in showing Thea the door. He would carry it off courteously and with a smile, but no amount of chivalry would disguise the ruthlessness behind his actions. Thea would know at once that she wasn’t wanted, and, being an intelligent woman, she would not have to seek far for the reason.

For a time Venetia stayed there, too drugged by heat and hopelessness to stir. The spaniel stretched and lumbered to the pool. Ungracefully he plopped into the water, but as his body cooled, he swam strongly, yelping at her to throw him a stick. Venetia ignored him.

Reluctantly she roused and turned towards the house, and the dog demonstrated his disgust at her lack of sportsmanship by spraying her legs and dashing ahead to find the prostrate and panting bull terriers. Not even the juiciest hunk of meat thrown into the pool would have persuaded them to get wet.

In the hall, Venetia was seized with a spasm of vertigo. It passed, but left a raging ache behind her brow and needle-points in her eyes. All the way down the corridor she clung to the wall, and somehow she opened her bedroom door. Room and furniture wavered. She groped to the bed and slumped across it, eyes closed, her head a furnace of agony.

Sickness rose in her throat, and again a climax of jabbing pains in her eyes and the burning somewhere inside her head. She thought she was going to die, and was glad.

“Venetia!”

She tried to answer, but the mere muscle movement in her neck sent fresh knives to her skull. All she desired was to pass out of the world quietly, and alone.

“Venetia!” A tap on the door. “Are you in there?”

Her riding-boot made a sound on the floor, and the door burst wide. In a couple of strides Blake was bending over her, pushing away the tumbled hair and feeling round her dry, fiery forehead with the back of his hand. He slipped undone the top button of her shirt.

“Mosi saw you staggering as you came in, and called me. Try and tell me what you feel.”

“Horribly
...
sick,” she managed, “and my head
...”

Blake barked at the hovering boy. “Mosi, take the car and go to Dr. Rivers. Tell him the missus is sick, and to come at once.
Tyetya
!”

The boy vanished. Blake drew off her boots, loosened her belt and lifted her to lie flat on the bed. He pressed one hand over her heart and with the other felt her wrist. Fumana brought iced water and a cloth which Blake squeezed out and spread across her eyes and brow. Below it her face was drawn into
u
nfamiliar lines, and a pathetic little pulse beat visibly in the delicate hollow of her throat. She looked like a child suddenly stricken by one of the more serious fevers.

Presently he inserted an arm under her and made her drink a bitter, milky draught.

“This will ward off sickness,” he said. “Is that the worst part of it?”

“I don’t know.” From under dark, heavy lids she looked at him. “What have I done? Have I
...
caught something?”

“Sunstroke,” he said briefly.

“Is that all?”

“It’s plenty. Makes you feel ill as the devil.”

“It was my fault. You said I must
...
always wear a hat in the sun.”

“Don’t talk. I’ve sent for Paul. He’ll know how bad it is and give you the correct sedative. I’ll pull the curtains and stay in the room with you.”

Venetia lay motionless. She was vaguely aware of Blake’s presence and infinitely grateful for the constant renewing of the icy wetness of the cloth. Once she felt his touch inside her collar, as if he were gauging her temperature, and through her pain sensed his caged impatience. When Paul came she heard Blake meet
him
outside the door.

“You’ve taken the hell of a time, Paul. It’s half an
hour since I sent the boy.”

“I call that good going. What’s wrong with Venetia
?”

“
A severe touch of sun. She’s in pain. Give her something to put her to sleep for a few hours. I was on the point of giving her some luminal myself.”

“Leave me alone with her, will you, Blake?
”

Twenty minutes later Paul came into the lounge. “She’ll sleep,” he said, “but I’m afraid she’ll be seedy for several days. She seems strung up about it, too. I’ll send you some tablets to relieve the symptoms, but don’t let her get up till Tuesday; that will give her nerves time to settle. Thanks,” as Blake handed him a brandy-and-soda. “I wonder what possessed her to sit in the sun for so long? Women do the strangest things.”

“Will she be asleep already?”

“Probably. I gave her a strong shot. Why?’

“It can wait,” Blake said, without expression.
“
Stay
and have lunch with me.”

“I wish I could, but I have to watch a case at the hospital.” Paul emptied his glass. “Call me again if you need me, though I hardly think you will. She’ll be better when she wakens. So long, Blake.”

Paul walked down the drive to where he had left his car. Remembering Venetia’s invitation a month ago, he cast a glance over the magnolias and flamboyants. It certainly was a superb garden, and this drive, with its profusion of white, cream and scarlet blossoms upon a backcloth of thick dark green leaves had an organized beauty peculiarly its own. Blake had designed the place with an eye to natural loveliness. He had not even missed the value of those pink scallops of the mountains which filled in the view. A remarkable piece of planning which he
rather envied.

He pushed his bag into the car, slid into the seat and started up. Carefully he reversed, to find himself faced by a dainty little English two-seater driven slowly and expertly by Thea Garrard. Automatically he switched of
f
and got out on to the drive.

Thea did the same. Thea, exactly as he recalled her;
slim
,
rather tall, immaculately turned out in a navy linen suit with an embroidered white chiffon blouse, her black hair smoothed into a loose knot, her eyes faintly smoky, as if she had thrown up a screen between them. She looked younger than thirty, and even more attractive than he remembered her.

“Good afternoon, Sister Garrard,” he said, faintly stressing the syllables. “Nice to see you again.”

“Thank you, Dr. Rivers,” she said conventionally. “I heard from Blake that you were practising in these parts and making a go of it. I hope you haven’t been paying him a professional visit?”

“No, it’s your sister-in-law. Nothing serious,” he added hastily, as she made to pass him. “A dose of sunstroke which Blake could have handled himself. As she’s fairly new to the country and was feverish, he may have wondered if she’d picked up a germ.”

“I seem to have arrived in time to be of use,” she replied. “Poor Venetia.”

“She’s sleeping now.” Yes, she was still the same Thea; efficient and annoyingly unmoved. What would it take to rock that composure of hers? “How long are you staying at Bondolo?” he asked.

“Till Monday.” The pause was scarcely perceptible, just long enough for her to avert her head an inch or two and transfer her attention to the trees. “I’m not on holiday—just changing jobs. I start at the Ellisburg Hospital at nine o’clock on Monday morning.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Oh, you do?” She smiled distantly. “The smallest items of news percolate, don’t they?”

“It wasn’t news to me, Thea. You see, I had a hand in getting you there.”

The merest hint of colour crept up from Thea’s neck. Her mouth straightened. “That was very kind of you, but the information is rather dampening to my ego. I’d imagined that my record had done the trick.”

“I’m not being pompous, Thea. You did get taken on your merit—of course you did. My part in it was infinitesimal and completely selfish. About ten days ago the hospital staff and local doctors had a meeting about the serious shortage of trained nurses. That was when I first saw your application and heard that you’d been accepted. I made enquiries and discovered that the Durban hospital was hanging on to you, so I pulled a few strings. I might tell you it pleased me a lot to know that you were so keen to work at Ellisburg.”

“I’m afraid you mistake my motives. There’s nothing altruistic about them—I’m not that sort. I’d simply had enough of the coast and rather fancied the idea of living nearer my brother, now that he has a wife.”

He shrugged, smiling. “Have it your own way. Am I allowed to mention our former friendship?”

“There was nothing unmentionable about it.”

“
True enough. I worked with an attractive, unsmiling Sister, and escorted her on two occasions to hospital concerts. We conversed, but seldom jested. That was how we felt at that time, wasn’t it?”

Thea said: “I must go in. Will you excuse me?”

“I shall have to.” Lightly, he added: “I’ll see you on Monday encased in starch and discipline. You’re more approachable this way, Thea. Goodbye.”

She answered him, and at once took the path to the house. Paul, she thought, was one of those changeless, dependable men. It wasn’t in him to turn on a woman, or to be unfaithful to a bargain. Extraordinary, the way she could still wince from that two-year-old affair, still shrink when a man’s hand touched hers in any but a business-like way, and feel a definite ache in her lips when two other people kissed. Blake hadn’t realized how deeply the disillusion had bitten, but Paul had seemed to know all about it, without being told a word.

In the beginning, his discerning eye had repelled her; that, and her revulsion from men in general. At that time she had needed only her work, and had been grateful that her profession absorbed so much of her time and energies. Paul’s friendship was a quality she could not allow within her armour against his sex. He wasn’t as hard-bitten as some doctors become. Even for his patients he had a curious streak of tenderness.

Over the last eighteen months she had changed. One couldn’t have daily contact with human joys and sorrows and remain outside them. Not that she would ever again contemplate marriage; the other affair had constituted both a lesson and a warning. Thank God she had had the sense to pull up this side of sanity and get back to nursing. She was certainly not sticking out her neck again.