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Authors: Mary Burchell

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BOOK: Love Is My Reason
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No, no. Of course not.

The other man was rather shocked by the suggestion.

I

m only warning you that you

ll come up against a lot of difficulties
.


I

ll tackle them as they come along,

David replied.


Well, good luck, my dear fellow.

Robin Drummond sounded cordial, but a little as though he were glad the responsibility was David

s rather than his.

If there

s nothing else I can do for you, I

ll drive back to the hotel with you, pick up my own car and push off for Munich once more.


You won

t stay for dinner?


Not unless you need me. They

re doing
Arabella
at the Munich Opera House tonight. And though it

s all a pale shadow or what it used to be in Clemens Krauss

time,
Arabella
remains one of my operatic loves—if only for my youthful memories of Ursuleac in the part.


Very well.

David smiled slightly.

I won

t take up your evening as well as your afternoon. And I

m eternally grateful to you for all your help.

His friend disclaimed any thanks, adding—which was true enough—that the interest of the case was its own reward. And then they drove back to the hotel, where they amicably parted company, Robin driving off at a great rate towards Munich, while David garaged his car.

But even then he did not go immediately into the hotel. Instead, he walked along the main street of the town, until he came to a shop which he had heard Celia praise highly. He went in, and, to the bright-eyed minx behind the counter, he said,

I want a birthday present for someone who is eighteen today.


Your sister or your
fiancée
, mein Herr?

enquired the girl, smiling knowledgeably and a little impudently.


Neither. But she is very sad, and no one else has remembered her birthday, I think.


At eighteen? That is too bad, mein Herr!

The girl was genuinely sympathetic and shocked.

Then she must have something beautiful to cheer her, and soft to console he
r,
and gay because she is so young.


That sounds about right.

David smiled slightly.

Can you find anything that fulfills all that?


But of course!

And, as though she were a youthful and faintly buxom fairy godmother, the girl produced from a deep drawer behind her the most exquisite rainbow-hued stole in finest Italian silk.


See


She tossed it round her to show him its wonderful width and length. Then she gathered it together and ran it through her thumb and finger, to show him its fineness.

No one could wear that and be sad.


You

re a good saleswoman,

David said, and smiled again—but mostly because he was thinking how beautiful Anya would look with that iridescent cloud of colour round her.

He never queried the price, and did not blench when the girl apologetically volunteered it. He merely said,

I

ll take it,

and waited a little impatiently while the stole was wrapped up. For suddenly he was eager to get back to the hotel and see how Anya was faring.

When he entered the Drei Kronen five minutes later, the first person he saw was his aunt. But before he could ask the anxious question which sprang to his lips, she said reassuringly,

It

s all right. She is asleep. I think she was exhausted, both with the shock and not enough sleep last night. Poor child, she didn

t tell me much, but she must have had wearing time lately.


I hope it

s going to be better now,

David replied.

But if Lady Ranmere wondered a trifle apprehensively exactly what he meant by that, she forbore to ask, for she was a wise woman and knew that nothing drives people more surely into defiant action than a demand that they should define their intentions when they are still doubtful about them themselves.


You

re sure she will be all right alone?

David pressed her.


Quite sure. She is sleeping on the sofa in the sitting
-
room. Suppose we go and have a drink and see what the others are doing? I could do with a sherry, and I imagine you

ve reached the whisky-and-soda stage after your experiences today.

David laughed and, leaving his parcel at the desk for the time being, accompanied his aunt into the lounge, where they found the other members of their party.

Apparently Lady Ranmere had already managed to give them some idea of what had happened, for they all, even Bertram, appeared anxious to hear more about David

s charge.

He gave them a brief account of the afternoon, and felt grateful to Mrs. Preston when she said, as though defending him,

I don

t see that you could have done anything else but bring the girl back here with you.

Celia said nothing, and he was not sure that she agreed with this view.


Where is she now? And what happens next?

enquired Bertram.


She

s asleep in my sitting-room.

Lady Ranmere took the explanations on herself, before her nephew could.

By and by, if she feels like seeing anyone else, we will bring her downstairs for dinner. Otherwise, she can have something quietly in her room. I

ve arranged for her to have the room next to mine, so that she won

t feel lonely.

David gave his aunt an affectionate smile and whispered,

Thanks. You think of everything.


And is she staying indefinitely?

enquired Celia. Not argumentatively, but as though the information interested her.


Until after the funeral anyway,

David said.

And after that we

ll have to see.

He was not quite sure himself what he meant by that. But fortunately, before anyone could ask him to be more explicit, Mrs. Preston, who was sitting beside him, addressed him in a low, urgent voice.


You weren

t able to—to find out anything more about her, I suppose?

she said, nervously playing with the fob brooch in which she wore her son

s photograph.


I

m sorry—no.

David knew from that nervous movement where her thoughts were. And, however illogical her ideas might be, he could not help looking with closer attention than ever before at the thin-faced, handsome man who smiled from the little photograph.


Anya

s so-called father died without my speaking to him again, you know,

he explained.

But if there is any way of finding out anything more, I certainly shall do so, if only for my own satisfaction.

She murmured,

Thank you,

and suddenly stopped playing with the brooch, as though guiltily realizing what she had been doing. Then he noticed that Celia was glancing in their direction, and though she smiled at her mother, she also shook her head.

For a short while David made himself enter into the general conversation around him. But presently he got up and said in an undertone to his aunt.


I

m going upstairs, to see she is all right. She may be frightened if she wakes and finds herself alone in a strange place.

And without waiting for any objection to that, he went out of the lounge, collected his parcel from the desk, and went quickly upstairs to his aunt

s sitting-room.

He had already conjured up such an anxious picture of her, frightened and alone, that he was relieved to find Anya sleeping quietly on the sofa, as his aunt had described. Her long dark lashes lay tranquilly on her pale cheeks, and the gentle rise and fall of her breathing was unhurried and peaceful.

For quite a few minutes he watched her, fascinated to find that, freed from her cares in sleep, she did not look
so
different from other girls of her age. No longer was she unbearably pathetic. And, for the first time, he found himself thinking.


She isn

t essentially a melancholy creature. She could be gay and happy. I believe she co
u
ld even laugh quite easily.

And suddenly he was overwhelmed by the desire to see her gay and happy.

Without knowing quite why, he unwrapped his gift and spread it out on a chair near the sofa, so that it was within easy reach of her hand. The light from the window caught it and drew a dozen scintillating shades from its shimmering depths, and he thought, with satisfaction, that it would be something nice for her glance to light upon when she opened her eyes.

He would have liked to be there when that happened, but already he had lingered long enough, he supposed. And then, just as he turned to go, she stirred slightly, and so he drew to one side out of her range of vision and watched.

For a few moments after she opened her eyes, she lay there—wondering, perhaps, where she was. Then her attention was caught, and with a soft exclamation of pleasure, she put out her hand and touched the silk. Only the lightest touch—certainly not the touch of possession

but infinitely delicate and caressing and appreciative.

Perhaps he made a slight movement at that moment. At any rate, she turned her head and, seeing him, smiled. He came forward then and, leaning his hands on the back of the sofa, looked down at her and asked,

How do you like your birthday present?


My—birthday present?


Yes. It

s your birthday today, isn

t it?

She gave a mystified little laugh and said,

How did you know? I—I had forgotten it myself.


I made it my business to find out,

he told her.

But I had to choose your present without consulting you. Do you like it?

and he indicated the shimmering silk.


This
—for me? For—for my birthday?

He thought he had never seen anything more beautiful than the streak of colour which suddenly came into her cheeks. And, taking the lovely stole, he put it round her; a trifle more clumsily than the girl in the shop had arranged it, but the general effect was enchanting
.


For me?

she said again, in an incredulous whisper, and she stroked the exquisite folds with a hand that trembled slightly.


It suits you. I knew it would,

he declared, with some satisfaction.

It looks like a rainbow.


Rainbow?

It was the first time he had seen her hesitate about an English word.


I can

t remember the German word for it.

He frowned consideringly.

But rainbow is the name we give to the colours which appear in the sky when there is both rain and sunshine.


Rainbow,

she repeated slowly.

For both tears and happiness. Like today.

And suddenly she buried her face in her hands. But not, he thought, entirely for grief.


No—you mustn

t cry any more,

he said. And, coming round, he sat on the sofa beside her, put his arm round her, and gathered both her and the beautiful
s
himm
ering
silk against him.


I

m not crying,

she said softly.

Underneath all the sorrow I

m happy—like the rainbow. Thank you, Herr David, for my birthday present. I

ll keep it as long as I live.

He laughed at that and said,

I hope you

ll live a great deal longer than any silk will last.

But he was infinitely pleased with her reception of his present.

After a while he told her quietly of the arrangements he had made for her father

s funeral, and was glad to see that she listened without tears and was apparently very satisfied with what he had done. Then he asked her if she felt well enough to come downstairs for dinner or if she would prefer to have something quietly in her own room.


I will do whatever you want me to do,

she said gravely.


But I want you to choose,

he told her with a smile.

If you feel it is too much to see strangers tonight, you have only to say so.


Who are the—strangers?

she enquired, with a certain touch of youthful curiosity.


There is my cousin, Bertram, the son of my aunt whom you

ve met. Then a friend of my aunt, called Mrs. Preston, and her daughter, Celia.


She is a girl—Celia?

“Yes.
A few years older than you.


And she is a great friend of yours?


Yes. You might describe her that way. I

ve known her a long while and we get on well together.


Do you love her?

enquired Anya, with devastating simplicity, and, to his annoyance, David found himself flushing slightly, as he replied lightly,

That

s too searching a question, An
y
a. We are not engaged, if that

s what you mean.


That wasn

t quite what I meant,

Anya said seriously. Then, after a few moments of silence, she added,

I will
come down and meet your friends, if you think I should not be in the way.


You will certainly not be in the way,

he told her.

In fact, everyone will be very happy to meet you.

And if, on reflection, he doubted the complete accuracy of this statement, at any rate he saw no reason either to correct or amplify it.

They were still sitting talking—though David no longer had his arm round her—when Lady Ranmere came in a few minutes later.

She looked very satisfied at Anya

s much brighter appearance, though she cast a glance of surprise on the lovely wrap she was still wearing.


That is Anya

s birthday present,

David explained calmly.

She is eighteen today, and I don

t think we should let the day go past unmarked.


Why, no, certainly not,

agreed Lady Ranmere, fairly accurately pricing the handsome gift in her own mind.

I hope, my dear, there will be many much happier birthdays for you in the future, and that you

ll remember even this one as a day when you found some good friends.

Anya thanked her with a shy smile, and David said,

Anya has decided to come down to dinner with us. I think that

s a good thing, if she feels like making the effort.


Yes, indeed,

Lady Ranmere approved.

Then perhaps you would like to see your own room now, my dear?


My own room?

Anya looked around her.


Yes.

Lady Ranmere crossed to another door and opened it, displaying a small but pleasant bedroom.

I thought you would like to be here, near me, so that you wouldn

t feel too much alone.

Anya got up from the sofa and came slowly across.


Do you mean—a whole room to myself?


Why, yes.

Lady Ranmere was half touched, half amused, David saw.

Do you like it?


It is beautiful, like everything here,

Anya said gravely. And, entering the room, she walked round looking at everything, with the pleasure and interest of someone visiting a small museum.

The other two exchanged a smile, and Lady Ranmere said,

Did she have any luggage?


Yes. It

s here somewhere.

David glanced round and, seeing the shabby little case tied with rope standing by the door where he had left it, he went over and picked it
up.

Possibly he swung it a trifle too energetically as he brought it into Anya

s room, or perhaps the rope was not very strong anyway. Certainly neither of the flimsy locks really fastened. At any rate, whatever the cause, even as he said,

Here you are,

and went to put the case near the window, the rope parted, the case opened, and there fell at David

s feet
the
small collection of miscellaneous articles which made up almost all Anya

s worldly possessions.


I say, I

m frightfully sorry!

He knelt down and began to gather the things together rather clumsily.


It doesn

t matter.

She smiled and came to help him, kneeling down opposite him to pick up the few poor bits of clothing, a book or two, several photographs—among which David recognized one of Beran, much younger, with a woman not unlike Anya herself—and a small box which evidently, from the way she handled it, contained her few personal treasures.


That

s everything, I think.

He glanced round.

No, here

s one more picture.

And he reached for a framed photograph which had fallen further away than the others.

As he handed it to her, he glanced at it idly. And suddenly is seemed to him that someone had dealt him a blow over the heart. For, laughing up at him, were two young men, screwing up their eyes a little against what was obviously bright sunlight. And one of them was, without question, the boy whose photograph Mrs. Preston always wore—perpetual reminder of the son who had vanished more than twenty years ago.

BOOK: Love Is My Reason
13.41Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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