Gates of Dawn (7 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE next few days were occupied in getting together a suitable outfit for Noel, the cost of which the really handsome cheque which Richard Trenchard had supplied easily defrayed. Melanie, despite her own limited number of years, had excellent taste, and she was able to advise in the choice of neat, ready-made suits and jumpers, and all the accessories which went with them, which would be suitable for a remote spot like Murchester, where durability would be more important than ostentation. But for the birthday outing—looked forward to almost childishly by Noel, whose previous celebrations had left much to be desired—she encouraged the purchase of a fine wool afternoon frock of a misty shade of blue which looked enchanting on the petite figure of the sixteen-year-old, with her cornflower-blue eyes and pale gold hair. And with it she wore a little dark blue velvet Juliet cap, and a slim tailored coat which was practical as well as sufficiently attractive.

Her guardian, when he called for them in a taxi, allowed his dark eyebrows to slide upwards quite noticeably in surprise when he looked at her, and then glanced approvingly at Melanie.

“
You
’
ve done very well!
”
he observed.
“
But it
’
s obvious you have what i
s
known as a
‘
dress sense
’
.
”

And Melanie, who was wearing the same leaf-green suit she had worn when she visited him at his flat, with a soft grey squirrel stole—re-modelled from one of her mother
’
s—draping her slim shoulders, and her dark hair uncovered, took it that he also approved of her own appearance.

But apart from this leaven of appreciation at the outset of the afternoon it soon became clear to her that this was not one of his best days, in the sense that he was in any party mood himself. At the cinema, where they sat for over two hours in the dark and simply stared at the screen, it was unnecessary for him to make any effort—and whenever she glanced at him sideways Melanie thought that his features were set in an expression of faint boredom, despite the unique performance of Sylvia Gaythorpe—but afterwards, in the brightly-lighted lounge of one of London
’
s leading hotels, his obligations as host came to the fore a little.

He told Noel that her birthday present—which he refused to name—would reach her when she reached the Wold House, and his niece
’
s eyes sparkled in anticipation. She was obviously enjoying herself, surrounded by so much unaccustomed luxury, with so many ultra-smart men and women taking tea on all sides of her. Some of them—especially the women—glanced across at their little party of three, and Melanie found herself deciding—without in the least intending to do so—that Richard Trenchard had a greater air of distinction than any of the other men present.

She noticed how the women
’
s glances dwelt on him with obvious interest, despite the fact that he looked detached and faintly arrogant, and there was a rather petulant gleam in his eyes behind their almost feminine eyelashes. His well-cut mouth had a kind of cold boredom hovering round it—which was not particularly flattering to either herself or Noel—and he refrained from taking note of any of the people who studied him, as if under no possible circumstances could they have had the slightest degree of interest for him.

But Melanie knew that the women were discussing him amongst themselves, and with their men friends, and it was simple for her to follow the drift of their conversations:

“
...
Richard Trenchard, you know
...
the playwright. You must have seen his
Summer Symphony
and
After Daylight
... an enormous success
...
”

And she knew also that they were regarding her a little curiously, because she looked so young and inexperienced, and Noel they might almost have decided was his daughter! Which, after all, she very easily could have been!
...

And then the swing doors opened to admit Sylvia Gaythorpe, with a tall, weedy-looking young man who nevertheless managed to convey an impression of affluence, at least, in attendance. Sylvia instantly caught sight of Richard and came over to him, both slim gloved hands held out in delighted surprise.

“
Richard
!
What in the world are you doing here at this hour of the afternoon? You, who loathe afternoon-tea! Oh, I forgot!—It
’
s a birthday, isn
’
t it?
”

She glanced with a formal, red-lipped smile at Noel, who was instantly covered in shyness, and then with a less perceptible smile at Melanie, who thought that she was even more striking and glamorous off
the
screen than on. Her flaming hair was arranged skilfully on the top of her shapely head, and she wore a black suit with a pencil slim line and a froth of white organdie frilling in the opening of the revers which threw into prominence the flawlessness of her complexion. A diamond brooch in the shape of a spray of orchids was pinned to the front of her suit, and looked costly as it blazed away in the rosy-pink rays of the subdued lighting effects.

Richard had stood up as soon as he saw her coming towards him, and he still retained her hands in his as he smiled down at her with a sudden, complete banishing of his boredom, and a light and entertaining sparkle in his eyes.

“
We
’
ve been gazing at you all afternoon,
”
he told her,
“
and now you appear in person, as if conjured up by magic!
”

“
Have you?
”
She put back her head to ga
z
e up at him, the expression of her huge, greeny-grey eyes melting but pleased.
“
How nice of you, darling, to be willing to pay to see me! How many times is that, I wonder?
”

“
I wonder?
”
he echoed, deliberately withholding the information, and provoking her with his look of bland teasing.

She studied him for a long moment in silence, and then accepted the chair he had drawn up for her. While she removed her gloves and the weedy-looking young man ordered fresh tea—without looking in the least pleased because his expected tete-a-tete with the star had been interfered with—Richard produced his cigarette-case and lighted
one for her, holding the flame of his lighter just below the level of her eyes so that the tiny yellow spurt of flame flickered and danced for a moment in her great, soft, curiously magnetic pupils.

“
Well,
”
she murmured draw
l
ingly, when the cigarette was comfortably alight,
“
at least you do consider me fit entertainment for your niece
!
”

His grey eyes regarded her with amusement.

“
Of course,
”
he agreed.
“
A
n
d I
’
m quite sure she considered it excellent entertainment!
”

“
Good!
”
she exclaimed, rather shortly, and watching her, Melanie felt suddenly sure she was not particularly pleased at that moment—possibly because Richard Trenchard occasionally baffled even her a little, and she would have preferred it had he been rather more on the surface, and had his look been less whimsical and provocative and difficult to read.

She pretended to be consumed with a desire for a cup of tea, but when she had no more than sipped at it she turned to him again, slid one white, scarlet-tipped hand inside his arm in a coaxing manner, and told him that someone was giving a party for her that night, and that he simply had to be one of the guests.

“
And I shall not take no
’
for an answer,
”
she assured him.
“
You
’
ve
got
to come!
”

“
Sorry, my sweet.
”
He shook his head.
“
I
’
m desolated to refuse you, but I have another engagement.
”

She looked at him almost angrily this time.

“
That probably means that you intend to work, and nothing more, and I shall
not
let you off!
”

“
Even so, I
’
m afraid you
’
ll have to!
”

She tried to extract from him the nature of his previous engagement, but Richard annoyingly withheld the information, and was cool and impervious to all her blandishments and her petulant burst of
“
artistic
”
temper. Watching them both with a certain amount of interest Melanie wondered what it must feel like to be up against the rock-like determination and baffling unassailableness of a man like Richard Trenchard, who could yet caress with his eyes at the same time that he proved so elusive. And the sight of his square jaw and handsome, amused mouth made her feel a faint sympathy for Sylvia.

Not that Sylvia apparently required sympathy for long, for it was obvious that she had had previous experience of Richard, and she was not going to humble herself by appealing to him for any length of time. She turned with a shrug to her other admirer, and observing out of the corner of her eyes that the rest of the room was quite absorbed in her actions, and that Noel was gazing at her with large-eyed wonder and admiration, and that the only other sharer of the limelight with her at their table was small, and dark, and mouse-like—that was her private opinion of Melanie!—she became good-humored again, and decided that the matter was not worth pursuing—at any rate, not then! For was she not Sylvia Gaythorpe, who had climbed by her own efforts to quite a dizzy peak of popularity already, and had many men who admired her? And the
“
literary lion
”
on her left might be more easily handled if discreetly handled! There was such a thing as finesse when dealing with a type of male who preferred rather to pursue than be pursued!

So she smiled at him forgivingly, and removed a speck of imaginary fluff from the neat lapel of his jacket.

“
Well, at least you haven
’
t forgotten that you
’
re taking me out to dinner tomorrow night?
”

“
As if I would!
”
he replied, with a softened, caressing note in his voice.

“
And when you go north to this exciting new house of yours—which I haven
’
t seen yet, although Mother reports in her letters that it
’
s absolutely charming—you promise me to throw a really grand-scale house-warming party, with myself as one of your most important guests? Is all that agreed
?
”

“
All that is agreed,
”
he echoed gravely, as one who humored a charming but importunate child.

She smiled at him, her eyes like softened, seductive green flames.

“
Dear Richard!
”
she exclaimed.
“
How nice to make such a lot of money writing plays that you can buy all the things you want, even a house that was practically tumbling down and which you
’
ve restored—again to quote Mother!—at enormous cost!
”

“
Not so enormous,
”
he told her. And added:
“
How nice to be a rising young film star with all the heights to scale, and all the world at your feet!
”

“
Flatterer!
”
she accused, and leaned a little nearer to him so that the subtle perfume she used crept about his nostrils.
“
If only I could get a really good story, instead of so
m
e of the stupid stories I do get!
”
she lamented.
“
Richard, you
’
ve simply got to write something really
spectacular
for me!
...”

Melanie was glad when he suddenly recollected that time was passing, and that it was his duty to collect a taxi and return them to Hill Street. If she had enjoyed the early part of the afternoon—and there was no doubt that Noel had enjoyed the
whole
of it—the latter part had seemed barely to include her at all, and she had even felt slightly but very decidedly in the way at times. Sylvia Gaythorpe had hardly addressed her at all, her escort had offered her a few desultory remarks, and her employer seemed completely to have forgotten her existence. Until he handed her into the taxi and inquired, with belated politeness, whether she had enjoyed her afternoon.