Somehow, it was much easier explaining the position
to Franklin Lowell than to Aunt Ellen, and
Beverley found herself telling him quite frankly that
they had not been
able to get very far yet with the practical arrangements.
"Just made the one big discovery that you were
born for each other, and left it at that?" he suggested.
"More or less." She tried not to think of
what Sara and she had discussed that evening. "Though, of course, "
she went on, with a slight effort, "we have known each other for so long
that it couldn't really have come as a complete surprise to us
both."
"But it was a surprise to you?" He was, she
realized, quick to sense shades of meaning in a doubtful tone.
"In the end, yes." And then, in a sort of
burst of confidence she said, "Sometimes one hopes for a long time, without
really daring to expect anything to happen. And then, suddenly, it
happens."
"And that was the way with you?" He
smiled, not unkindly. "So that now all the anxiety and doubts are over, eh?"
She didn't answer. Because, when the situation was put
into words like that, she was overwhelmed by the thought of the anxiety and
doubts which still remained. Apparently he was good at interpreting silences too,
for he gave her that shrewd, oddly friendly glance and said, "Not quite
over, I see. What's the trouble?"
"There, there isn't any, "
she declared quickly,
startled that he
could read her so easily.
He did not press the point, and she could have left
the matter there. But something, perhaps it was the unspeakable urge to be
reassured by someone, anyone, goaded her into further, inexplicable confidences.
"I don't know why I'm telling you, but, for a
while, I, I thought he was keen on someone else."
"Well, it seems you were wrong, " he
pointed out philosophically.
"I, don't know."
He glanced at her again. Then he said in a
deliberately matter-of-fact sort of voice,
"Lots of men have a preliminary flutter with
someone else before they settle down with the one girl who matters."
"I know. I suppose it's, silly to worry."
"Very, " he assured her, but again not
unkindly. "Concentrate on what is coming, my dear, not on what is past.
Are you going to settle in Binwick?"
"Oh, yes!" She explained briefly about
her mother. "And I shall go on working too. We shan't be too well off, "
she admitted, with a candour which seemed
to
amuse him.
"No? And yet, " he frowned consideringly,
"Revian ought to make money, you know. He's
got what it takes, so far as portrait painting is concerned, I should have
thought. He ought to have a London exhibition of his own. That would be the
thing to put him on the map."
Beverley laughed and shook her head, as she thought
of the times she and Geoffrey had discussed just such an idea in past years.
"Have you any idea what that would cost?
Especially for people living in a remote village like this."
"Doesn't his father ever help him?"
"No. He doesn't approve of Geoffrey's way of
life at all. He wanted him to go into the business years ago, and I don't think
Geoffrey was very tactful in the way he refused. They've been quite bitterly es
tranged ever since."
"I see." Franklin Lowell narrowed his
handsome eyes slightly as he looked ahead. "Have you no good friends?"
"Yes, of course. But no one who could think of
putting up so much money. Why should they, come to that?"
"Because he is very talented and you are very
nice, I suppose, " he replied, with a smile. "I tell you what , I'll
give it to you for a wedding present."
"Give me, give us, ? I don't understand, "
gasped Beverley. "What is it you want to give us for a wedding present? Oh,
but you can't anyway.
You, you hardly know
us."
"Pardon me, I've known you since you were a little
girl."
"Oh, but that's different!" She laughed, half
touched and wholly charmed.
"On the contrary, it is extremely appropriate.
I might even lend my portrait of you for the occasion, " he said
reflectively. "It's almost essential, I suppose, since it was the cause of
bringing us all together, and the basis of my confidence in Revian as an
artist. Yes, definitely that will have to have a place in the exhibition."
"But, I simply can't believe it! Do you really
mean that you want to, to finance an exhibition of Geoffrey's pictures in a
London gallery?"
"Yes. Is it so astonishing? Lots of rich men
fancy themselves as patrons of the arts, I believe."
"But, not you, " she said, before she
could stop herself. Then she coloured and gave him an apologetic little smile.
"Well, no, " he agreed, without offence.
Indeed, he gave her a wickedly amused glance in return for her smile. "I
suppose it isn't much in my line, really.
But I do believe in Revian as
an artist, and I do
like you as a
person. And, though I don't know why I should allow myself to be trapped into
this sentimental statement, it pleases me to do something towards the future
happiness of my little friend in the blue and white dress."
"Oh, Mr. Lowell, " she actually had to
swallow a slight lump in her throat, "you really are an awfully nice
person, and I don't know how to thank
you.
Even if Geoffrey doesn't agree, "
"Why shouldn't he agree?"
"Well, " she boggled at the impossibility
of putting into words the doubts which assailed her. For had not Geoffrey
categorically said that he didn't like Franklin? And, in addition, if there had
ever been anything between Sara and Geoffrey, was it quite right that Geoffrey
should accept help from the man
Sara was to
marry?
"You mean, " said Franklin Lowell
carelessly at this point, "that he doesn't like me and might not want to
accept help from me?"
"Why, how did you know?" She was too much
taken aback for polite concealment.
"That he doesn't like me?" Her companion
was
perfectly good-humoured about it.
"One always knows, unless one is a fool. I don't much like him either, come
to that, " he added, without rancour.
"But then it isn't
necessary that I should."
"Isn't it?" She looked nonplussed.
"But why should you help him if you don't like him?"
"I've told you. Because I like you. And I
admire his work."
Beverley noted the changed order of his reasons, and
wondered just how much value one should set on academic admiration.
''If he were not marrying me, would you make the same
offer of help?" she "enquired suddenly.
"No. I don't expect so. But don't split hairs
about t
hat, " he told her carelessly.
"Think it over. There is no need to decide anything at the moment. But if
you come to the conclusion that you like the idea, it can all be arranged. You
can even, if you like,
bring in an unknown benefactor, and not tell
Revian who is putting up the money."
"I don't think that would be practically
possible, " she said gravely.
"Anything is practically possible if one wants
it
sufficiently, " he retorted, with a
touch of that almost arrogant good humour which is seen only in those to whom
success comes naturally. "This is your place
isn't it?"
"Oh, yes." In her eagerness and interest,
she had hardly realized that they had arrived in Binwick
and were how stopping before her own front door. "Thank
you so much for so many things, " she
turned, and held out her hand
to him, "but most
of all for this
wonderful, unbelievable offer to Geoffrey."
"To you, " he corrected, but he smiled.
"Well, thank you, anyway. I hope I haven't
taken
up too much of your evening."
"No, of course not. I'm not doing anything
except drive back home."
"Truly? Then you wouldn't, " she
hesitated diffidently, "you wouldn't care to come in and see my mother, would
you?"
"If you think she would like me to, of
course."
"She would love it, I'm sure!" Beverley
flushed with pleasure.
"I don't know why she should, " he said, with
some amusement. But he got out of the car immediately.
"Because when you spend all your time in bed, it's
always interesting to see new people, " Beverley explained. "Besides,
you're a local personality. Rather like someone in a book, " she added a
little naively.
This idea seemed to amuse him too, and very slightly
puzzle him. But he followed Beverley up the garden path without any
self-consciousness.
When Aunt Ellen opened the door to them, with an
expression of half-offended astonishment, Beverley wondered if she had made
something of an error in inviting Franklin Lowell in. But, to her amusement and
a good deal to her surprise, he immediately turned on Aunt Ellen such a battery
of charm that even she produced a wintry little smile and said she was sure her
sister would be happy to see him.
There was, Beverley felt, something strangely
exhilarating in the presence of this tall, good-looking, vital creature in
then- small front room. And when she led the way into her mother's room, she
saw reflected in Mrs. Farman's face something of her own rather breathless
enjoyment of the impact of Franklin Lowell's personality on their quiet home
scene.
He was completely easy in his manner towards her mother,
and they liked each other on the instant, Beverley saw. Indeed, after a very
few moments, he drew up a chair and sat down, evidently intending to
stay for a time, while Beverley curled herself up
at the end of the bed and prepared to enjoy her mother's
pleasure in
their unusual visitor.
It was surprising how much they found to talk about.
But, as a girl, Mrs. Farman had known Eithorpe Hall and its surroundings well.
"I remember old Miss Eithorpe, " she said
reminiscently. "But she wasn't old Miss Eithorpe then, of
course. Only middle-aged and quite extraordinarily
difficult. She was supposed to have been crossed in love, which was reckoned to
account for all her eccentricities. But I don't know that I believe much in
that sort of explanation. It's so easy to blame all one's
disagreeable
qualities on something in the past, isn't
it?"
"Like the psychologists who claim that
criminal behaviour in an adult is directly traceable to a well deserved hiding
when one was ten, " suggested their visitor.
"Oh, yes!" Mrs. Farman looked at Franklin
Lowell
with almost affectionate approval.
Then, after a pause, she said elliptically, "I think common sense is such
a
nice quality, don't you?"
"It's a wonderful basis
for sympathetic understand
ing, "
he agreed, with a twinkle. "Has, Beverley, " he hesitated only a
second over her name, "told you that I have a picture of her when she was
about twelve or thirteen?"
"Yes, indeed! It's Geoffrey's picture of her, isn't
it? I'm so glad you have it."
"Why, Mrs. Farman?"
he asked rather curiously.
"I'm not quite sure.
Except that you would value it for its human, Beverley-ish qualities, and not
just make a fuss about it for its artistic merits, I think.
Besides, it's nice to think of anything so personal
belonging to a friend, rather than a collector."
"You have the most charming way of paying
compliments, " Franklin told her, with a laugh, as he rose to go. "I
hope I may come and see you again."
"Please do. You will always be welcome, "
Mrs. Farman said. And then Beverley went with him to
the front door.
"Is there anything to be done for her?"
he enquired, suddenly much graver than Beverley had seen him before. "She
is so charming, and brave."
"I know. Everyone loves her. But, no, I'm afraid
there isn't very much. I am sure she liked seeing you, though, and thank you so
much for coming in."
"Thank you for asking me, " he said. Then
he bade her goodbye and went out to his car.
As Beverley turned back into the house again, Aunt Ellen
emerged from the kitchen and uttered the first expression of unqualified
approval Beverley had ever heard from her.
"Now that, " she said, "is what I
call a man!" Then she went back into the kitchen again, to see about
supper.
CHAPTER SIX
DURING the next few days Beverley lived in a state
of painful indecision. She kept on telling herself
that
few emotional problems are improved by being discussed at length, and
that the heart-to-heart talk has accounted for more broken friendships and
romances than almost anything else.
But the longing to speak frankly to Geoffrey, to
ask him to define his exact attitude towards Sara
was sometimes almost irresistible. To her innermost
soul, she
longed for some sort of reassurance, some statement from him which might possibly
admit a one-time affection but which would also establish be
yond all doubt that no feeling for Sara still
lingered.
And yet, suppose she did tell him of her doubts and fears, her
conjectures and beliefs? If these were groundless, and if he had, in fact, never
really re turned Sara's love, could anything be more embarrassing or
undignified than the position she would
then
be in?