Authors: Juliet Armstrong
C
HAPTER
FOURTEEN
It was a s
omewhat subdued party that made its way back to Garsford House. The babies, disappointed in their hopes of a ride on the broad shoulders of the
“
Pick-a-back Man
”
—as they promptly christened Andrew—were inclined to be peevish, and their mood was not improved by the disappearance of the sun behind a big cloud. They were tired and cold and hungry, they decided; and
though this factor made their progress speedier than before, Catherine would have much preferred them to loiter happily in their usual fashion.
“
He
would
put me in the wrong with them,
”
she told herself angrily;
“
He even tries to put me wrong with myself. From the way he talks, anyone would
think
that it was I, not he, who had behaved so abominably.
”
She made up her mind that had he had a reasonable excuse for his conduct, he would have produced it long ago. It was true that she had refused to listen to him, both now, and on the telephone, the day after the dance. But wasn
’
t there such a medium as the post? It was because his excuse was so
flimsy
that he wished to m
a
ke it verbally—and he was not going to have the opportunity.
Decisions that involve other people are, however, easier made than kept. Less than a week later, having been sent by Matron to a farm cottage on the very outskirts of his land to buy
eggs for a sick child, she was caught in a violent thunderstorm, and running for shelter to an old stone barn, which stood not far from the highway, she found to her dismay that Andrew had himself taken refuge there.
“
Right into the lion
’
s mouth!
”
He looked down at her with a sardonic amusement which held nothing of surprise.
“
I couldn
’
t believe my eyes, at first, when I saw you making straight towards
me.
”
“
I certainly shouldn
’
t have come if I
’
d known y
o
u were here,
”
she retorted acidly.
“
And what is more, I have no intention of staying.
”
“
You
’
re staying until we have had just a very short conversation.
”
To her indignation he stepped past her, and blocked the doorway with his great figure.
“
And you
’
re going to tell me first of all whether, that night of the dance, old Bradge found you and gave you my message.
”
“
‘
Old Bradge!
’
I don
’
t know what you are talking about.
”
Though plainly taken aback, her tone was as cold as ever. And then she added cuttingly:
“
He
’
s not by any chance a sudden invention on your part, is he?
”
A dull flush overspread his sunburned face.
“
What you need, my girl, is a good shaking,
”
he said, with suppressed violence.
“
A shaking that would scatter some of the bees which seem to have got into your bonnet. Old Bradge is the head waiter at the Garsford Arms, and
o
n the night of the dance he had been
‘
lent
’
to take charge of the refreshments.
I asked him to let you know
—”
“
Sorry, I
’
m just not interested in messages sent by waiters,
”
she began icily.
“
Bradge is more than a waiter,
”
he snapped.
“
He was on the staff, of the Manor when I was a child, and I look upon him as one of my best and oldest friends.
”
“
If he was your twin brother, it wouldn
’
t make any real difference,
”
was her curt response.
“
Even if he had delivered your message which was, I presume, that you had decided at the last moment to cut your next two dances with me, I should still have thought
you
—”
She hesitated, then, stung not only by
anger but by grief at the toppling of her foolish dreams, finished hardly:
“
An unmannerly lout!
”
‘
He looked at her steadily, his eyes blue steel in the half-light.
“
W
e
are
having a nice row, aren
’
t we?
”
he observed mockingly.
“
Such an appropriate background for
it, too—a good thunderstorm!
”
A terrific flash, followed by a deafening clap silenced him for a moment, and then he went on evenly:
“
The message, which I simply can
’
t understand Bradge not giving you, was that Beryl was ill, and that I felt obliged to run her home. I told him to tell you where Cecily was, and to ask you to stay with her until I got back.
”
“
If Be
r
yl wasn
’
t well—and she looked in excellent health, to me—I should have thought it was up to one of her own party to see her home.
”
Catherine
’
s hostility showed no signs of diminishing.
“
I don
’
t pretend to belong to the fashionable world, but I do know something of the rules of ordinary decent behavior.
”
And then she added, with a sense of choking restraint:
“
You would not have dared treat Beryl like that.
”
“
I thought you were the understanding sort,
that
’
s all.
”
He made no attempt, she noticed, to pursue the matter of Beryl
’
s indisposition.
“
But if your opinion of me has worsened of late, so has mine of you. When we first met, I summed you up as one of the gentlest, sweetest-tempered girls I had ever run across. I know now that you are a positive spitfire, capable of the most wounding little speeches imaginable.
”
With a shock Catherine recalled that Roland Alldyke had accused her in similar terms.
“
Don
’
t imagine that you are an angel,
”
he had said.
“
You run quite a
good line in tempers.
”
Could it be that she had changed so much?—for at home, in Hilliton, not even Marion, critical as she was, had levelled that particular criticism against her. If so, was it
this hard and cruel lesson of love unreturned, that was so altering her nature?
Taking advantage of her silence, Andrew spoke again, and
this time more mildly.
“
Catherine,
”
he said, and his wrath, she saw, was giving way to pain and embarrassment,
“
I can only ask you to take my word for this: there was a strong reason why I felt obliged to take her home—myself.
”
The anger died out of her features also and, as if to match their changed mood, the sky grew a shade lighter. She thought sorrowfully, recalling Matron
’
s revelation:
“
I know more than he thinks. He found Beryl irresistible that night, and asked her to marry him. He
’
s not very happy about it now, but he
’
ll go through with it. And even if he didn
’
t, he
’
d never turn to me.
”
“
Let
’
s not quarrel any more,
”
she said, wearily, looking past him to the road.
“
I can
’
t pretend that I
’
m impressed by your explanations, but I
’
ve said all that I wish to say on that subject, and I shan
’
t ever refer to it again.
”
“
You must hate me, to speak like that,
”
he exclaimed.
S
he shrugged her shoulders.
“
Not at all,
”
she sai
d
and her voice now was pleasantly conversational.
“
I
’
m merely—indifferent. And now, if you
’
ll let me pass, I
’
ll make tracks for home.
”
“
Go, if you wish. But you
’
ll be soaked before you get a hundred yards.
”
He moved aside from the doorway.
“
Look at those clouds, and the way the wind is blowing. The storm will be worse than ever in a few minutes.
”
“
I
’
ll chance it,
”
she said, picking up her basket.
“
Nonsense; it my company is so repugnant to you, I
’
ll clear out, and you can stay here,
”
he exclaimed.
But she shook her head, and hurrying towards the gate, passed on to the high road. For a second it seemed as though he intended to follow her, and her heart began to thump. Evidently, however, he
changed his mind, for his footsteps ceased abruptly, and she was left to continue her way alone.
A car flashed by, as she plodded along in the teeth of the wind, going in the direction of the Manor, and she saw, with a dull pain at her heart, that it was Beryl who sat at the wheel. Since she would have to pass the gates of Garsford House she might
very well have offered Catherine a lift; but she did not trouble even to wave as she went by. She just sat there staring in front of her, a long cigarette holder between her lips; and it must be owned that Catherine was, in the circumstances, only too glad to be ignored.
On went Catherine for a few yards; and then, as Andrew had
prophesied
, the storm suddenly broke again. The rain came down in torrents, blown all about her by the wild west wind, the
lightning
zigzagged blindingly from the inky clouds, and bang went a terrific thunderclap, right over her head.
For a moment she was tempted to
run back to the bam; then she reminded herself of the old country saying that lightning was less dangerous when it was raining hard, and pushed on. But after a few moments deliverance came. Another
car drove up, and stopped beside her; and this time the driver was Roland.
“
Hop in, quick!
”
he exclaimed.
“
My hat, you
’
re wet. Where are you bound for? The Playdles
’
cocktail party, same as me?
”
“
Nothing so exciting; I
’
m on my way home,
”
she told him, rather glad than otherwise that Andrew was probably watching her getting into Roland
’
s car. Then she took off her soaking beret, and mopped her wet face with her handkerchief.
“
If you
’
ll drop me at Garsford House, I
’
ll be everlastingly grateful,
”
she said, adding laconically, without quite knowing why:
“
Beryl
Osworth
went by just now.
”
“
And didn
’
t play the Good Samaritan? Well, well!
”
He seemed sourly amused.
“
As a matter of fact, I was to have picked Beryl up at the Burlens—they can
’
t come by the by—and brought her along. But because I was a little late—it
’
s a bit of a detour from my uncle
’
s village, you know—her ladyship nips into her own car and drives off alone. Anything for a few extra moments of Andy
’
s society.
”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“
I
’
ll get my
o
wn back on her, don
’
t you worry
.
I haven
’
t known her all these years for nothing.
”
Catherine eyed him in faint disgust. His reference to Andrew had made her wince, but it showed that he was well aware of the state of affairs between the pair. That being so, it was pretty caddish to talk of paying Beryl out.
It seemed that he guessed her thoughts, for his expression changed, and he gave her a comical grin.
“
You
’
re so straightforward and honest, Catherine, you don
’
t come within a mile of understanding rotters like myself and—and Beryl. Utter and absolute selfishness—that
’
s the clue to our characters, and to those of a number of our charming acquaintances. We
’
re out for ourselves, all the time.
”
She thought wretchedly:
“
And this is the girl who is going to marry Andrew.
”
But she said, conjuring up a smile:
“
You must have a streak of honesty yourself to speak so frankly of your shortcomings. I don
’
t believe you
’
re nearly so bad as you make out.
”