Ever After (45 page)

She submitted with her usual composure, standing docilely before him, her face upturned and defenceless to his searching eyes. He saw again the clear, delicate skin which did not freckle, the direct blue eyes with their thick golden lashes, the long, lovely line of her lips, the resolute chin. She was just as he had remembered her—but with a new, soft, shining something which came of being seventeen in the spring.

“You see,” she said after a silent moment, “I told you. There is no improvement whatever.”

“Aren’t you taller?” he said rather at random, rather short of breath.

“It’s this hat.” She touched the smart low hunting topper she wore with some pride. “It came from Locke’s. They had to buy
me new riding clothes, I had clean worn out the old ones. With most of my other things, though, they have just let down the hems or put insertion in, and flounces, now that I’m supposed to have long skirts. I can’t have anything new till after Clare is married, but Miss French has bagged two of Clare’s prettiest dresses to make over for me because Clare is getting new ones.”

“Your hair has got darker,” he added, peering at it under the hat’s brim.

“Has it? I wear it up all the time now. Makes me feel lots older.”

“Do you want to? I suppose the first thing I know you’ll be coming out, and going to dances, and having proposals of marriage, and all that sort of thing.”

Dinah made a face.

“I hope not!” she said decidedly. “Besides, nobody will ask me, I’m not like Clare.”

He bit off the impulse to say that there was one proposal she might as well make up her mind to, and that was his. Instead, as they strolled on in step along the edge of the spinney, leading the horses which often paused to graze, he locked her arm in his with their palms together and said, “Tell me about Clare. Is this fellow all right?”

“I suppose he is. His name is Mortimer Flood, and he’s made a lot of money in hemp, or something, and is giving her the most
wonderful
house in Belgrave Square. I could never bear him myself even if he offered me Buckingham Palace to live in, but I doubt if I’ll ever get married anyway, so my opinion isn’t worth much.”

“That’s a very drastic state of mind,” he objected mildly. “What’s wrong with marriage?”

“The husbands people get, mostly. Bracken, do you mind—about Clare, I mean. Once I thought you were a little in love with her.”

“You know, as a matter of fact, I wasn’t. Besides—perhaps I should have mentioned it before—I have a wife, you
see, and while we haven’t lived together for some time, I am still technically married to her.”

“Oh, I knew that,” she said easily. “Edward told me.”

“Well, blast Edward. I would have preferred to do it myself. Of course I had no idea of being away so long, and it seemed a stupid thing to put in a letter. How long have you known about it?”

“Since the fancy dress ball.”

“And you never mentioned it! What tact!”

“Well, I thought perhaps you’d rather not.”

His relief was anti-climax. Whatever she felt about him, it was in spite of Lisl. And she had still run into his arms.

“There will be a divorce eventually, of course,” he said. “And then I shall be free to marry again.”

“And shall you?”

“I hope so.”

“Oh,” said Dinah rather flatly. “Then it wasn’t—you aren’t breaking your heart over her.”

“My dear, I am anything but heart-broken. The whole thing was a sorry mistake from the beginning. My fault, of course, and I have paid for it very dearly.”

“I don’t believe it was your fault,” she maintained.

“Mine, anyway, to have married her at all. Nowadays I would know better.”

“Edward said—said she had left you.” Dinah was looking straight ahead.

“For another man.” He shrugged briefly. “Sounds bad, doesn’t it!”

“Oh, Bracken, that’s not true! Nobody would!” She was
indignant
as though a third person had slandered him.

“Why do you say that?” He paused and stood gazing down at her. Their faces were very near.

“Because you’re—because any woman would be proud and—and happy with you.”

He swallowed all the things he wanted to say, and said anything else.

“I hadn’t enough money,” he said. “Or perhaps I was stingy. Anyway, she wanted more than I could give her.”

“Then you’re better off without her.”

“I am. Most decidedly.”

“And that was why you never proposed to Clare,” Dinah
reflected
. “You knew she wanted a lot of money too.”

“Dinah, darling, I never would have proposed to Clare because I never was in love with her. Strange as that may seem.” He put his hand to the bulge in his coat pocket and took out a square black leather case. “Here’s your music box from New York,” he said.

Inside the case when she opened it was a silver box with a jewelled and embossed design of trees and a stream and a fisherman in an odd hat. He showed her how to press the catch and a tiny feathered bird with an ivory beak came up through a grid in the top and whistled an intricate tune. When you released the catch he popped down out of sight and it was just a box again. Dinah was completely entranced, and held her breath each time lest the bird get caught in his little trap door.

At last she closed it up safe in its case again and they left the horses under some willows and went on, hand in hand and full of gossip, to where Dinah had a surprise for him. He stood silent with delight
when he saw it—a carpet of anemones, dancing white stars on stalks, trembling in a wandering breeze on the bank of the stream, spread as far as the eye could travel among the small bare tree trunks.

“I’ve been saving it for you,” she said with possessive pride. “If you hadn’t come this week it would have been gone. It’s all the present I have for you, I’m afraid.”

He dared not say that he had had his present when she kissed him. It would take so little now to jar Dinah out of her unawareness, and the time was not yet. They went on, treading delicately, and sat down on a log near the water, and Dinah heard about Virginia’s convalescence, and how Eden already loved the village and the house and how anxious she was to know Dinah.

“Clare and Edward will come to call, of course,” said Dinah. “Father’s not gone out much since he had influenza.”

“That will be charming of Clare and Edward, I’m sure. But I want my mother to know you. We must get Archie to bring you to lunch.”

“We can try. Archie’s rather queer lately. I wouldn’t be
surprised
if he was in love.”

“That’s new, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Archie is always very mysterious. Perhaps that’s why I think so much of him. But it’s nothing like you and Virginia, you tell each other everything.”

“Well, not quite everything,” he qualified hastily.

“She must have been nearly out of her mind when you were shot. Which shoulder was it? Are you quite well again?”

“It was just here.” He tapped his right collar-bone. “The bullet went clean through so it healed nicely, though it will probably
complain
of wet weather for the rest of my life.” Dinah’s eyes rested on his tweed-clad shoulder as though she saw the blood and felt the pain, but she said nothing. “I wouldn’t have worried you with it,” he went on, “but my handwriting looked so funny for a while you were bound to wonder. Your watch was with me, and I like to think that made a difference.”

“And if prayers do any good, you had those too,” she nodded. “Please tell me how it happened. Your letter was just tantalizing.”

“It’s not really very interesting. I’d rather hear about you.”

“Oh,
I
haven’t done anything! Archie gave me
The
Light
That
Failed.
Was it anything like that in Cuba?”

“Not very much. Though Fitz behaved in a rather Kiplingesque way, I suppose.”

“Tell about Fitz,” she begged him.

“We all thought Fitz had a screw loose somewhere. We were never so wrong. That just shows you. Can’t tell about your own family, even!”

Sitting there on the log, absorbed in each other, they allowed half an hour to slip away while Bracken told about Daisy, and the beach at Daiquiri, and the balloon above the Bloody Bend. Dinah listened almost in silence except for a prodding question each time he seemed to slow down or tried to skip. Cuba had taken nearly a year of his life and had nearly killed him. She had to know about Cuba, and Bracken was the only one who could tell her. She kept him at it until she was satisfied, and the sun was high. And finally—

“I’m starving,” he said suddenly. “Look here, why don’t you come back with me to breakfast and say Hullo to Mother now?”

It seemed to her the wildest adventure, all of a sudden like that. Her eyes were round with it.

“
Could
I?”

“Why not? Well send Luke over with a message that I met you out riding and kidnapped you.”

“You can telephone now. Father hates it, but Clare made him put one in.”

“All right, come along, we’ll telephone!”

Before they left the bank they gathered some anemones to put with the primroses as a bouquet for Eden and strolled back hand in hand to where they had left the horses.

“You always make everything so
simple
!” she marvelled, looking down at him from Dewdrop’s saddle when he had tossed her up.

“Why shouldn’t it be simple? We’re both hungry, and Mother will be delighted.”

“It’s good to have you back.” Impulsively she laid one small warm hand along his cheek as he stood beside Dewdrop looking up. “Please don’t ever go away again.”

He caught her hand quickly and held its palm against his lips. Then he mounted Sunbeam and they rode almost in silence to Farthingale.

T
HEY
found the breakfast table laid for one, and Melchett said that the ladies were having trays upstairs.

“Just lay another place and boil another egg,” said Bracken. “I’ve promised Lady Dinah something to eat.”

“Perhaps I oughtn’t to stay,” Dinah suggested anxiously when Melchett had gone. “Your mother might rather I’d wait till I was asked.”

“You are asked.” Bracken drew her into the morning-room which
was streaming with sunlight and had a fire. “You wait here and I’ll go up and rout them out.”

Eden was covered with chagrin when he knocked at her door, for it was not her habit to breakfast in bed, though Virginia had done so since her illness. She explained that she felt perfectly well, and had only asked for a tray because Bracken seemed to have gone out, and the maid was unpacking and she could keep an eye on things—

Bracken kissed her apologies into silence.

“Take all the time you like,” he said. “Dinah and I will have breakfast together. Just a sighting shot. She’ll have to learn how I like my morning coffee sooner or later!”

Followed by Eden’s laughter, he ran downstairs to the telephone, which was in the morning-room, got through to the Hall and asked for Archie.

“Hullo, we’ve got your sister over here at Farthingale,” he
announced
. “The little one. I went out for an early ride and found her picking primroses. She’s having breakfast with us if you don’t mind.”

“Jolly good idea,” said Archie. “Sorry I wasn’t out after
primroses
myself.”

“Come and join us. Lots of time.”

“Thanks, old boy, I think I will. We’re all delighted to have you back, you know.”

“Good. As soon as you like, old boy,” said Bracken in the
vernacular
, and hung up, grinning. “He’s coming straight over,” he said to Dinah. “Excuse me again.” And he went upstairs to
Virginia
’s room. “You’d better come out of that!” he yelled through the door. “Dinah’s downstairs and Archie’s on the way!”

“What?
Come
in!
”

He opened the door and stuck his head around it. Virginia made a very pretty picture propped against the pillows in a pink sacque, drinking tea.

“All right, Camille, get into something with lots of lace on it, the curtain is going up! But he can’t come up here, you know, you’ll have to use the sofa downstairs.”

“Oh,
Bracken,
why didn’t you
warn
me! How long have I got? Do take this tray, you chump, and hand me that robe, quick, and
stop
grinning
at
me
! What shall I wear? Ring for Mary, can’t you? What did he
say
?”

“Can’t stop to gossip now, Dinah’s starving in the morning-room. I’d get a move on if I were you.”

He ran downstairs again and collected Dinah, who said as they entered the dining room together, “Maybe
you
can get Archie out of his shell, I can’t! He works all the time and never comes down
for week-ends, and never has any fun. It’s such a
waste.
He’s much the nicest of us all and nobody ever sees him!”

Bracken herded her gently away from the sideboard towards the table, where beside his mother’s place there was a large silver tray with the tea and coffee things on it.

“You sit down in Mother’s chair and pour out my coffee the way she does. She has finished breakfast and will be down soon. What do you like for breakfast?” he went on, peeking under the covers at the sideboard. “Isn’t it odd how little we really know about each other after all these years? They
have
done us well this morning! Scrambled eggs—kippers—bacon—?”

“I think the eggs, please—and bacon. How do you like your coffee?” she asked.

“Hot milk—quite a lot—and one sugar.”

He set the plate in front of her and sat down with his own. Dinah handed him his coffee. Melchett brought in the toast in a silver rack and put it down between them and went out. He watched while Dinah poured tea for herself and put milk and sugar into it. She looked up at his silence, with candid, questioning eyes.

“I like this,” said Bracken. “I think this was a very good idea. Let’s do it again some time!”

“You know, what I missed most while you were gone is the way you say silly things quite sensibly,” Dinah remarked. “Nobody in our family does that. I feel as though I hadn’t laughed since the last time you talked nonsense!”