Authors: Unknown
'He can’t do this to me,' she whispered achingly as she closed the bedroom door. ‘I don’t need his sympathy. It’s his love I want. She sank miserably on to the bed. Fears of despair ran down her cheeks, and in her agony she decided she must leave. She could not face the thought of even another day seeing and loving Brad, knowing he would never be hers. Her mind made up, she felt easier, and in the refuge of sleep was able to forget her misery.
When she woke the next morning memory of last night’s scene came flooding back, and with it a renewed determination to make today her last one at Leastone Hall. She looked sadly round the room, at the elegant splendour of her surroundings. She was a fool to throw away such luxury; any other girl would jump at the opportunity of a job like this. But her decision was made. There was nothing for it but to leave. She simply could not go on living in the same house as Brad, knowing as she did that the chances of his returning her love were non-existent.
After a solitary breakfast Laura marched determinedly into his study. He looked up, smiling; a smile which set Laura’s pulse racing. He looked so handsome and so infinitely desirable. Although he was cleanshaven, a blue shadow persisted on his chin. She wanted to run her fingers lightly down his face, to feel the smooth freshness and inhale his after-shave and the faint lingering odour of Havana.
'Do you feel better this morning?’ His deep voice was soft with concern, and Laura felt her resolution wavering.
Please don't be nice to me now, she begged silently, it’s more than I can stand. She spoke with more conviction than she felt. ‘I’m all right. But—Mr. Stuart— Brad, I want to ask you to release me from my contract. I know there’s another two weeks, but I’d like to leave today.’ She linked her fingers tightly together, waiting nervously for his reaction.
Gone was his smile. He frowned, yet his eyes remained friendly and his voice still held an element of concern. ‘Running away won’t do you any good, Laura. Sit down. Let’s talk this over.’
Laura obeyed, hoping he wasn’t going to make things difficult. Now that her mind was made up she wanted matters finalised as quickly as possible.
‘Now,’ he said, elbows on desk, fingertips pressed lightly together. ‘What plans have you made?—None, if my suspicions are correct.’
‘Well—not yet, but—’
‘And do you think that you can find suitable accommodation just like that? Especially so near Christmas.’
‘I thought perhaps my old landlady would find me a room.’
‘You thought! And if she couldn’t, what then?’
‘I—I don’t know. I hadn’t got that far.’
Brad rose and walked round his desk, his tall figure looming above her. ‘Good gracious, girl,’ he thundered, his face now frightening angry, ‘have you no sense? Don’t you know what could happen to you?’ He paced across to the window, staring out for a few seconds; seconds which seemed like minutes to Laura as she sat waiting, hating the thought that he was right and yet equally determined to have her own way.
He turned and Laura checked a cry of surprise at his expression. He looked—almost upset, she thought. His lips were tightly compressed and a pulse jerked spasmodically in his jaw. The shadow on his chin was even more prominent against the paleness of his face.
'No!’ His voice was carefully controlled. ‘I won’t let you go. You signed a contract and I wish you to honour it.'
'Brad, please. What difference will two weeks make?’ Laura quailed beneath his penetrating gaze, but faced him bravely. He couldn’t, shouldn't dictate to her.
'Enough to make you realise how foolish you are. It was quite obvious to me that you and Philip were never suited, yet here you are willing to ruin your life simply because you’ve found out he doesn’t love you.’
'That was nothing to do with it,’ retorted Laura hotly, rising from her chair. ‘And anyway, my personal life is no concern of yours. I’m here as your secretary —nothing more.'
He smiled grimly, ‘Precisely, and as such I feel morally responsible while you’re under my employment —which is for another two weeks—understand? If by the end of that time you still want to leave I’ll help you find somewhere to live.’
Laura realised she was defeated; that short of walking out on him there was nothing more she could do. She would have to stick out the next fourteen days as best she could.
He placed his hands on her shoulders, regarding her gravely for a moment or two. ‘Be strong, my little autumn treasure. Time is a great healer.’
Laura blinked back the tears that threatened, and smiling weakly slipped from his grasp. ‘Perhaps I’d better start work.’ If she wasn't careful she would find herself in his arms again, perhaps even admitting her love for him. And what humiliation that would cause! It would put them both in an embarrassing situation.
In the sanctuary of her office she sank her head into her hands and wept. She wasn’t aware that Brad quietly opened the door and watched, did not see the tenderness on his face as he silently withdrew. She allowed her sadness to engulf her until at last she felt better. Two weeks was not such a long time, after all, and with Christmas in between it would soon pass. Reaching for her handbag she repaired her damaged make-up and when Brad entered later in the morning was able to face him calmly.
At lunchtime Helen and Philip were already in the dining-room. 'What happened this morning?’ said Helen immediately. ‘We could hear your voices. It was all I could do to stop Philip coming in and setting about Brad.'
‘It was nothing,’ answered Laura with deliberate casualness. 'I wanted to leave, but Brad won’t let me— not until my contract’s up.’
‘I shouldn’t think so, either,’ Helen was indignant, ‘not with Christmas next week. Philip’s going back to London today, but he’s returning for the holidays. It should be fun.’
‘Why do you want to go, anyway?’ mocked Philip. ‘You’re not giving up?’
‘There’s not much else I can do,’ retorted Laura wryly. ‘You don’t know how upsetting it is working so close to him. It’s even worse now he knows you’re engaged to Helen.’
‘How’s that?’ asked Helen. ‘I thought it might help, and that he’d immediately pop the question before some other young man came along and snapped you up.’
Laura laughed. ‘You must be joking. He feels sorry for me, that’s all—and his pity is worse than all his harsh words.’
‘Poor Laura, I wish we could help. It must be hell loving a person who doesn’t return your love.'
'I‘m glad you love me, Philip.' She leaned across the table and kissed him. Laura, watching, thought how marvellous it would be if such a relationship existed between her and Brad, then ,scolded herself for allowing these thoughts to enter her mind. At one time, before her meeting with Philip, it had seemed faintly possible, but fate had decreed otherwise and this she must learn to accept.
The following days were the most unbearable that Laura had so far experienced. Brad was kindness itself. • He made sure she did not overwork, apologising for any errors she made, insisting it must have been his own fault, and spending a few hours each evening in her company, relating anecdotes or amusing experiences— anything to try and cheer her up. But she knew his good will was born of compassion, and this she did not want. She tried hard not to let him see how his consideration affected her, noticing on one or two occasions how her coolness hurt him. But she took refuge in maintaining an outwardly indifferent attitude. It was the only way she could hide her feelings.
On Friday Helen went out and returned with a giant Christmas tree. ‘It doesn't look as though Brad’s going to bother this year—let's see what we can do to brighten the place up. I’m sure there’s a box of trimmings in the attic.'
They spent all evening decorating the tree and fastening up the decorations. A joyful, happy evening when Laura was able to forget her problems for a few hours, until Helen said :
‘I can’t understand Brad.' She was balancing precariously on the step-ladders trying to fasten an enormous star on top of the tree. ‘He's usually the first to suggest dressing up the old house, except last year, of course. With me in bed, no one bothered.’
‘Perhaps he’s too busy?’ ventured Laura. ‘How about this holly here?'
‘What—oh, fine. Of course he's not busy ! He’s always found time before. I guess he still disapproves of my engagement. I’ve noticed how considerate he is towards you, though. Are things improving?’
Laura paused, sucking her finger where a holly leaf had drawn blood. ‘It depends how you look at it. On the surface we’re good friends, and he certainly doesn’t shout at me these days, but it’s only because he’s sorry for me—and you know how I feel about that.’
‘Yes. It’s quite a problem. Why don’t you let him see how you feel? Who knows, he may be in love with you but afraid to admit it.’
‘And pigs will fly,' scoffed Laura. ‘No, thank you. He’d probably laugh at me and say
Not another foolish female
.’
‘I don’t know so much,’ said Helen, climbing down and preparing to put the steps away. ‘I just think he needs a jog in the right direction. Perhaps if I had a word with—’
‘Oh no, you don’t,’ said Laura in horror, ‘I shall be gone in a week, and then I'll be able to forget all about Brad.’
Who she was trying to convince Laura did not know. For the rest of her life there would be only one person who mattered. She would undoubtedly meet other men, might even some day marry one of them, but a part of her heart would always belong to Brad.
Philip returned on Christmas Eve and over dinner Laura was aware of Brad watching her reaction to his presence. Such close scrutiny caused her heartbeats to quicken and she talked more than usual to try and hide her confusion. But apparently this only served to confirm Brad’s suspicions that she still cared for Philip, for he squeezed her hand sympathetically, whispering, ‘Try not to let him upset you, my dear. I know it’s hard, but you mustn’t let him spoil your enjoyment.’
At Brad's touch Laura’s hand quivered. She tried to pull away, but he held her more tightly. 'I'm all right,' she said unsteadily. I appreciate your concern, but honestly there’s no need for it. I’m quite capable of managing my own affairs.’
He raised a disbelieving eyebrow. ‘You are?’ He released her hand, but she noticed he continued to watch her closely for the rest of the evening.
Christmas Day dawned bright and clear. The sun shone and the whole house glittered and sparkled as if it too wanted to join in the festivities.
Laura dressed carefully in her new green mohair sweater and darker green skirt. She brushed her hair until it swung like a silken curtain about her shoulders, and after much deliberation decided to leave it loose. Since the evening when Philip had drawn attention to her hair she had been careful to keep it fastened neatly back, but now, what did it matter? A sudden recklessness took hold of her; she knew how attractive it looked framing her face. ‘Let’s see what you make of this, Brad Stuart,’ she said to herself as she went downstairs.
The other three were already in the dining-room and cries of
Merry Christmas
greeted her. Philip kissed her warmly on the cheek, it was Brad to whom she looked. His smile was friendly and she noticed his eyes flicker over her hair, but he made no attempt to touch her. He wore a black polo-necked sweater and light grey slacks, and her pulses quickened at the sight of him. His muscles rippled beneath the close-fitting jumper and again she marvelled at his physical fitness.
It was not until after breakfast that gifts were exchanged. Helen was delighted with the bag and in return gave Laura a silk scarf. Philip gave her a bottle of perfume, expressing great satisfaction in her choice of cuff-links, and Mrs. Jennings was so overcome with her present that she cried. ‘I didn’t expect anything,’ she said, and it was some minutes before she was her usual self again.
Laura had to confess that she was a little disappointed when she received no present from Brad—although she had not really expected one, and was thankful that she had not bought him anything. It made things easier all round.
After the excitement had died down and Helen and Philip were talking together near the window, Brad drew Laura to one side, pressing a carefully wrapped packet into her hand. She looked up, astonished. Brad had bought her a present after all! Gould it be that—? No. He was merely being kind because of her broken engagement. He hoped to cheer her up, make her forget her supposedly broken heart.
With fingers that trembled she slipped off the satin ribbon and opened the shiny paper. Lifting the lid of the tiny box, Laura looked at the exquisite gold and jade pendant. It was lovely, but she couldn’t accept it. She knew it was valuable and wondered again at Brad’s decision to give it to her.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she breathed, ‘but I can’t keep it. It’s far too—too—’
‘Too what?’ he cut in softly. ‘It belonged to my mother. She had auburn hair just like your own. It will suit you as well as it suited her, especially against that green jumper. As soon as I saw you in it I knew the pendant was exactly right. No—I insist you keep it—as a token of my thanks for the good work you’ve put in. Here, let me put it on for you.’
With gentle fingers he lifted her hair and slipped the gold chain into place. Laura quivered at his touch. It was as though every nerve end was on fire and she struggled against the desire to press her body against his. To feel his virile strength and steady beating of his heart against her own. Her lips trembled as she smiled her thanks. ‘It’s very kind of you, Brad, but are you sure it shouldn’t belong to Helen? Wouldn't your mother have wished that?'
‘If she'd met you, she would have desired you to have it, I know. Please believe me,' he pleaded.
It took every ounce of Laura’s self-control to maintain an outward calm, not to let him see the love in her eyes. But she wished the reason for his giving her the pendant had been different. She didn’t want thanks. He paid her to work for him. Those few carelessly spoken words dimmed her initial happiness; spoilt what would have been a cherished memory in the years to come.
She moved away to where Helen stood watching, a peculiar expression in her grey eyes.