"But he didn't, "
said Beverley again.
"I don't
understand." Toni stared at her.
"No How should you? It's all right. You
couldn’t
know. But, oh, dear, what am I to
do?" And Beverley put her face in her hands for a moment.
.|
"Oh Miss Farman, aren't you feeling well? Asked
Toni anxiously. "Do you feel sick or something?
"A little " said Beverley, who did.
"But it will pass.
Don't worry, Toni.
And don't say a word more about this to anyone. Not anyone, please."
"I wouldn't think of it, " Toni assured
herewith dignity "I only said it to Franklin because, "
"Yes I know, " interrupted Beverley,
suppressing a
desire to scream. "But
you spoke a trifle too soon Toni. Don't even think about it any more. Except, she
sup pressed a violent shiver, "just tell me what he said in the car.”
"Well' he said, 'Who told
you that?' And I said,
'Mr. Revian did,
only he said it was a secret because
he had
only just heard it from you and-, Oh, Miss Farman, you really do look ill!
Would you like some smelling salts or something?"
"No, thank you, " replied Beverley
distractedly. "But I think I must go and catch my bus now." And with shaking
fingers she began to put her work together.
"You're sure you're all right?"
"Yes, thank you, I'm all right, "
"You wouldn't like some tea or anything?"
"No, thank you, " said Beverley, who felt
she would never want to eat or drink again. "I just want to make sure that
I catch the bus."
"You've plenty of time, " Toni assured
her. But she obligingly helped to clear the sewing table and tidy the room.
"And I won't say a word to anyone, " she added as she bade Beverley
goodnight.
Her piquant face beamed with such evident friendliness
and good intention that it was impossible to say anything nasty about shutting
the stable door after the horse had gone. Instead, Beverley managed to smile, in
a rather wan way, and say, "That's a good girl."
Then she made her escape at last, and found herself
walking down the lane to the bus-stop in such a state of agitation that she
actually talked aloud to herself
as she
went.
"What am I to do? What must he think? I can't even
pretend that Mr. Revian made a mistake, for Toni said I told him the news. I
must have been mad ever to invent that story! I can't ever look him in the face
again. He must think me so, so cheap, so presumptuous. Oh, this is much worse
than losing Geoffrey_ much!"
Some sense of proportion forced her to remind
herself that this could hardly be the case, since only pride was involved on
this occasion, whereas in the loss of Geoffrey her deepest feelings were
involved. But somehow the argument lacked weight.
"I must have lost Franklin's good opinion of
me for ever and ever, " she thought, with a despair which was worse than
anything she had felt in the deepest depression of the Geoffrey episode.
"He'll never think of me
again as 'his'
little girl in the blue and white dress,
grown-up. He liked to think
about me before. I know he did. He liked to meet me unexpectedly and to talk to
me about things, and to watch my reactions. And
now he'll never be able to think about me again without
embarrassment
and annoyance. He may even sell my
picture,
"
And at this thought, she actually wept a little, standing
still there in the lane, sniffing childishly and
wiping her eyes, while a small, inquisitive squirrel flicked
his
tail and watched her from a nearby tree.
After a minute or two she went on slowly again, trying
to tell herself that the situation was not really quite so desperate as she had
at first supposed. "I must just find the courage to explain to him, "
she thought. "After all, he is about the most understanding person I
know." Her heart warmed a little at the thought of Franklin's powers of
understanding. “I’ll explain exactly how it really happened. He'll recognize the
truth when he hears it. He's -so straightforward and fine himself that he knows
when one is being honest. And he's so generous that he will make allowances for
my nervousness when I was speaking to Mr. Revian."
This cataloguing of Franklin's good points served to
raise her spirits considerably, and all the way home in the bus she thought
hard about how gay and kind and generous Franklin Lowell was, because this made
her feel just a little less awful about the explanations which she felt she
must make to him.
"When next I see him, " she began to
herself. But at once the sober reflection came to her that she simply could not
leave this business to the hazard of a chance meeting. She must seek him out, to
apologize and explain, before time confirmed the unpleasant impression which
Toni's disclosure must have made. "I ought to go this very evening, "
she thought, and her heart gave an uncomfortable downward lurch. "I
ought really to have taken the bus in the other
direction,
right away, and gone to Eithorpe Hall. But Mother would have
wondered why I was late. Perhaps tomor
row, "
But she found that the idea of putting off the evil
day involved more misery than relief. And, as she walked the short distance
from the bus to her home, her thoughts were still in great confusion.
They sorted themselves out with frightening clarity,
however, when Aunt Ellen greeted her with "You've
just missed Franklin Lowell. He was here less than an hour ago."
"W-was he?" Beverley looked aghast, so
that Aunt Ellen stared at her and said, "Well, there's nothing very
terrible about that, surely. He does come here sometimes, doesn't he?"
"Yes, I know. B-but why did he come
today?"
"To see how your mother is, I suppose. He
brought her some flowers and fruit, anyway."
"He didn't come for, for any other
reason?"
"Well, he did say he
thought he might find you here.
He
seemed surprised when I told him that you were
still working at Huntingford Grange. So I suppose he's
heard
Something."
"I suppose so, " agreed Beverley lamely, and
she went in to see her mother.
"Hello, darling." Her mother looked up
and smiled.
"You've just missed Franklin Lowell. And he
specially
wanted to-see you."
"Did he?" Beverley
moistened her dry lips. "Why?"
"I don't know, exactly. But he seemed
disappointed you were not here. He stayed and talked for a while, however. He
really is a nice fellow."
"Yes, " said Beverley sadly. "Nearly
the nicest person I've ever known."
Her mother regarded her consideringly.
"Why does that thought depress you, darling?
It's
usually very exhilarating to reflect on the niceness of one's
friends."
Beverley swallowed. "Not if you've done
something that makes you think you might lose them, " she burst out. Then
she sat down on the end of the bed and, taking out her handkerchief, blew her
nose rather unnecessarily.
Again her mother regarded her in silence, while
Beverley thought, "That was a stupid thing to
say. It
sounds as though we have quarrelled, and now Mother will want to
ask all about it."
But her mother did not ask anything about a
quarrel. Instead, she asked in a deceptively mild tone,
"Are you in love with Franklin Lowell, Beverley?
"In love with him? In love with Franklin? Why,
Mother, what are you thinking of? You can't be in love with two people at once.
And I'm, I mean, I was, I am in love with Geoffrey. That's clear enough, surely?"
"It didn't sound a bit clear, the way you put
it, her mother replied, still in that mild tone. "And, though I think it
was very brave of you, I couldn't help noticing
that you didn't shed a tear over losing Geoffrey, whereas
you're
crying now about a quarrel with Franklin."
"I'm not, crying, " said Beverley in a
choked sort of voice. "And I haven't quarrelled with him."
"Then what, " asked Mrs. Farman, not
unnaturally, "is all the fuss about?"
"Oh, Mother, it's the most dreadful
misunderstanding!" Beverley buried her face in her hands. "I wouldn't
have lost his good opinion for the world. Not for the whole world! But
something so stupid and inexplicable has happened and it's my own fault, only
how could I know?"
Mrs. Farman made no attempt to disentangle this incoherent
outburst. She merely stroked Beverley's hair with one of her poor, misshapen
hands and said, "I don't think Franklin would make it difficult, if one wanted
to explain something."
"No_nor do I, he's such a darling. But now I’ve
missed him, and I'll have to wait, and all
the time he's
thinking badly of me, "
"He didn't give that impression, " her
mother said
consolingly.
"Oh he wouldn't to you. He wouldn't want to
make you unhappy. But I wish I could have seen him."
"He said he was going straight home, "
remarked her mother, with apparent irrelevance.
"Did he?" Beverley glanced at her watch.
But I’ve missed the six-o'clock bus and there isn't another one
17
until
eight. And even then I'd have to walk nearly
twenty minutes from
"the stop."
"You could have Barton the taxi, " said
Mrs. Farman, proposing this unnecessary extravagance without hesitation.
"Oh; Mother-, I suppose I could." A gleam
of relief began to show in Beverley's face. "It's ridiculously extravagant,
when I could go quite easily by bus to morrow, but, "
"Sometimes extravagance is not only justified,
it's called for, " declared her mother firmly. At which Beverley actually
managed to laugh faintly.
"You know, I think I'll do it." She got
up, looking suddenly eager.
"You had better have something to eat before
you go."
"No, no. I couldn't eat anything until this is
settled, "
Beverley declared.
And her mother had the good
sense not to press the point. Though Aunt Ellen exclaimed in disapproval and
astonishment when presented with the fact that Beverley was going out again
without having
her evening meal.
"How long will you be?" she wanted to
know.
"I couldn't say, "
replied Beverley. Then she gave her mother a nervously eager hug and kiss, and
went off, leaving Aunt Ellen staring after her, divided almost
equally between astonishment and offence.
By the most extraordinary good fortune, Barton the taxi
was free, and when he heard he was to drive Beverley up to Eithorpe Hall, he
bristled with interest. "You get about, don't you?" he said, by which
he meant that she visited outside her social sphere in a way that he found both
intriguing and questionable.
"Yes, " said
Beverley, and that was all.
On the long drive she was
forced to make agreeable conversation. Otherwise Barton the taxi would have set
his lively imagination to work and decided either that she was "getting
above her boots, " now that she visited "the gentry, " or else
that there was some special and deeply significant reason for her journey to
Eithorpe Hall.
Beverley was exceedingly anxious not to give either
of these impressions, so she talked almost
incessantly
about the weather and the scenery and the general state of
the country. And as Barton the taxi was quite sure that he could run the
country a great deal better than they" did, if only he had the chance, this
topic served them well for most of the way.
As they neared Eithorpe Hall, Beverley felt her
heart begin to thump and her breath to come quickly and unevenly. In one moment
of panic, she wondered why ever she had committed herself to this undertaking. Would
it not have been far simpler and wiser to ignore the whole thing? to leave
Franklin to suppose for himself that the ridiculous story was no more than another
piece of highly coloured invention on Toni’s
part?
In making an issue of it like this, and insisting
on explaining herself, was she not giving a clumsy significance to the story
which could only increase, rather than diminish, the general embarrassment?
At this point she very nearly asked Barton the taxi
to turn round and drive back home again. Only the thought of his astonished
curiosity, and his consequent speculation kept her from doing so. And a few
minutes later, they drove up to the front of Eithorpe Hall.
"Will you want me to wait?" enquired
Barton.
"Oh, yes, please!"
"How long?"
"I don't know." How long did it take to
talk oneself
out of a hateful and ridiculous
predicament? "Perhaps
half an hour. I, I'll come out and tell
you."
"All right with me, " Barton assured her,
and, taking out his evening paper, he prepared to give earnest study to the ways
in which "They" had been mismanaging the country during the day.