Never to Love (12 page)

“Why not ask Andrea? I’m sure she’ll be delighted to prove what a devoted wife she is. I was invited to lunch, but I don’t think I’ll stay after all.”

There was an awkward
silence while she collected her belongings, flashed a spiteful glance at Andrea’s averted face and swept out.

“I expected this to happen,” Justin said casually, when the front door slammed resoundingly. “Madeline has never managed to get on with another woman for any length of time. What did she say to upset you?”

Andrea accepted the sherry he had poured for her and drank it down quickly.

“It was nothing really. Just a silly squabble,” she said, trying to sound equally casual.

“Don’t lie to me, little one. I have no illusions about the sharpness of Madeline’s claws. What was it?”

“I’d rather not discuss it, Justin. Could I have a cigarette, please?”

He lighted one for her, and when she had taken two or three nervous puffs, said, “I think it would take more than a trivial quarrel to make you shake like this. I insist on knowing what Madeline said.”

“Oh ... please...
”

She recognized the determined line of his mouth and knew that she would be forced to tell him eventually.

“It began when Madeline was talking about Helen and Gerald Myers,” she said distressfully. “I hardly know them, but it seems to be common gossip that Gerald runs after other women.”

“And so?”

“Justin, couldn’t we forget about it? I’m sorry to have clashed with your sister, but I daresay it will blow over after a while.”

“Go on,” he said implacably.

“Well
...
Madeline said that
...
that no woman could hold a man forever and that you—”

“That I would follow Myers’s example.” His face was unreadable. “What else?”

“That was all. I suppose it was foolish of me, but the way she said it made me angry and I was rather rude to her.”

“I see.” He leaned back against the end of the couch and crossed his long legs. “Why were you angry? Out of indignant loyalty or because you were afraid it might
be true?”

She made to jump up, but he caught her wrist and said, “No, don’t fly off the handle again. Think about it. Are you quite sure which was the true reason?”

“Of course I am. Anyone would have been furious. If someone suggested to you that I would have affairs I don’t think you’d be very pleased.”

“No, but that isn’t entirely comparable. If a woman is unfaithful to her husband it’s generally his fault. Men frequently betray the most excellent women, as in the case of Myers. If we were an ordinary couple I wouldn’t ask you to analyze your reaction, but as our circumstances are not ordinary, I’d like to know whether Madeline’s suggestion had ever occurred to you.”

She looked down at his hand enclosing her wrist in a light but firm hold.

“No,” she said in a low voice. “Perhaps it should have done, but it didn’t.”

He let go of her wrist and stood up, walking about the room with his hands in his pockets and an unfathomable expression on his face.

Then, as if they had been discussing some commonplace matter of no further account, he said, “We’re flying over to New York at the end of next week. I will be busy at the conference I mentioned for two or three days, but I think you’ll be able to amuse yourself, and when it’s over we might visit some friends of mine up in Maine. I think you’ll like New York and I’m told the stores are very good.”

“What is the conference about?” she asked, trying to take this abrupt change of topic in her stride.

“Very dull financial matters,” he said.

“I’m not a complete ignoramus, you know,” she returned dryly.

“The fact that I don’t think the agenda would interest you isn’t a reflection on your intellect.”

“Perhaps not,
b
ut I would like to know something about your work.”

“There’s no reason why you should bother your head about it. Unless you’re contemplating a flutter on the stock market and want some inside information,” he said teasingly.

Andrea crushed out her cigarette. It was probably childish to be so exasperated by his gentle mockery, but at moments like this she could almost have stamped with vexation.

He must have sensed her mood, for he said more seriously, “Look, my dear, I imagine that you spend a certain amount of time trying out your eye shadow and rouge and all the other mysterious mixtures that women use. But providing the result is attractive, I can’t say I’m particularly interested in the mechanics of the business. In the same way there’s no need for you to concern yourself with my day-to-day affairs. If anything should ever happen that is likely to have a drastic effect on our present way of life, naturally I will tell you about it, but until it does I would rather confine my business talk to the boardroom.”

At that point Hubbard announced lunch and Andrea was prevented from countering this argument. She spent part of the afternoon resting in her room in readiness for the evening, although while her body was relaxed her mind was far from serene. In spite of Justin’s apparent unconcern, the row with Madeline troubled her. She had no second thoughts about her attitude, but she knew that the clash would not make life any easier, for Madeline could be a vicious adversary and was not likely to forget that she had been put in the wrong.

Justin did not come in for tea and she spent an hour listening to a concert on the radio before going up to dress for dinner. She was going to wear a very plain black lace dress with a low-cut bodice and long close-fitting sleeves. The diamond rose brooch that Justin had given her on her wedding day was too heavy for the delicate lace veiling her shoulders, so she put on some small pearl earrings and left her neck bare.

When she was ready she went down to look at the table. Normally the dining room was lighted by two standard lamps, but tonight these had been removed and four silver candelabra set out. In the center of the table was a massive silver epergne that earlier she had filled with yellow and white roses from the gardens in Cornwall. The flickering glow
o
f the candles made the crystal glasses sparkle and enhanced the sheen of the polished table. It cast soft shadows on the walls and ceiling and gave the room a welcoming and intimate air.

Although they were having only ten other guests besides Simon, all were distinguished in some artistic or professional sphere, and Andrea felt a good deal of trepidation at playing hostess to people whose conversation would undoubtedly be more intellectual and
,
wittier than the frivolous chat and shoptalk to which she was used. At least the food and wines would be perfect, that was one consolation.

Hubbard had been a little disturbed when she told him that Simon was coming.

“It’s usual to have an even number, madam,” he had explained.

“Yes, I know, but I forgot that Mr. Brennan would make us odd. Does it matter very much? I can’t think of anyone else to ask at such short notice.”

“You’re not superstitious, I take it, madam.”

“Why? Oh, having thirteen people, you mean? No, I’m not, and I shouldn’t think Mr. Justin is.”

Now she noticed that Hubbard had arranged the places in such a way that the odd number was scarcely noticeable.

She was adjusting a rose in the epergne when Justin came in. He must have gone straight upstairs to change
and
she thought how well he always looked in evening dress.

“You look very dignified tonight. Is that a new dress?” he asked.

“No, it’s part of my trousseau, but this is the first time I’ve worn it.”

“Turn around a moment.”

She did so, thinking he wanted to see the back of the dress. But with a swift movement he slipped something cold and smooth around her neck; and putting up a hand she felt a triple string of pearls.

“Oh, Justin
...!”

As soon as he had fastened the clasp, she ran to the Regency looking glass and saw them glimmering around her throat.

“They’re beautifu
l
.
Are they ... real?”

“Certainly. Did you think I’d dropped
into Woolworths on my way home?” he said amusedly.

“Well, no. But they must have cost a fortune.” She ran her fingertips along the perfectly matched strands. “I don’t know what to say. You’re much too generous.”

He came up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. Although she was wearing satin shoes with very high heels, he was still able to look down at her, and the breadth of his shoulders made her own seem much slighter than they really were. Their eyes met in the mirror, and
perhaps it was only the candlelight but his expression seemed gentler than usual.

She turned to face him. “Thank you, Justin,” she said softly.

And then, impulsively, because it seemed natural to the moment, she stood on tiptoe and kissed his lean brown cheek. As soon as she had done it she was filled with shyness and, with it, a strange flurry of excitement.

Justin did not move. His eyes were narrowed and the muscles of his jaw clenched. There was something almost frightening in his absolute stillness.

Then, slowly and deliberately, he took the handkerchief from his breast pocket and rubbed the place that her lips had brushed.

“The necklace is a gift,” he said curtly. “I don’t expect any payment.”

Incredibly, after what had happened,
the dinner party was a great success. From the moment the first guests arrived until four hours later when she stood at Justin’s side in the hall and accepted their cordial thanks for a delightful evening, Andrea chatted and laughed and made them welcome as easily as if she had been trained from childhood to be a perfect hostess. Not for one second of those four seemingly interminable hours did she allow the faintest sign of her inner bewilderment and distress to show through. But it would have given her no satisfaction to know that, as they drove home, her guests were agreeing with each other that Justin could not have chosen a more charming and suitable bride.

As soon as Simon Brennan, the last to leave, had gone, she said a hasty good-night to Hubbard and Justin and went up to her room, where her first action was to take off the pearl necklace and drop it into a drawer. Then, limp with reaction from the long ordeal downstairs, she sank onto the velvet love seat and buried her face in her hands.

After a while, too exhausted even to think clearly, she forced herself to get ready for bed. But lying between the smooth scented sheets in the quiet darkness brought no repose.

“The necklace is a gift. I don’t expect any payment. The necklace is a gift
...

Over and over again the harsh words echoed in her mind, and she tried desperately to understand why he had given her such a cruel rebuff.

An hour later, still awake, she heard footsteps on the landing. They stopped outside her door and she tensed, dreading that he might come in. But after a few minutes he moved on, and with a long breath of relief she heard his door close.
She did not see him again until lunchtime the next day, by which time she had made up her mind to behave as if nothing had happened. If Justin wanted to misinterpret her every action, there was nothing she could say to soften his judgment of her.

In the days that followed Justin never referred to the dinner party, and it seemed as if their life was to continue indefinitely in a state of polite formality.

Andrea had hoped that Madeline might choose to forget their row, but it was soon evident that her sister-in-law had no intent
i
on of doing so., She was shopping in Knightsbridge one morning when she met two of Madeline’s bridge cronies. She stopped to speak to them, but with chilly bows both women walked past her, and looking after them she saw their heads together in eager discussion of the encounter.

The Saturday following the dinner party was Jill’s wedding day. She was being married from Nick’s parents’ home in Hampshire, as they were going to Spain for the honeymoon and a Cornish wedding would have made the journey more difficult.

On Friday evening Justin said that it was essential for him to spend the weekend in Manchester and Andrea would have to go to the wedding alone. Although she was certain that he was not genuinely obliged to go north, she made no comment. Afterward she was glad that he had not accompanied her, for the occasion could only have em
p
hasized the uncertainty and stress of their relationship.

CHAPTER FIVE

Five days before their trip
to the United States, Andrea woke up with a sore throat, and by midday she had all the symptoms of a severe head cold. Justin was out to l
u
nch, and after a solitary meal for which she had no appetite, she took some aspirins and spent the afternoon lying on her bed with a hot-water bottle tucked against her aching shoulders.

At four o’clock Miller brought her a tray of tea and at five she pushed back the warm eiderdown and dragged herself off the bed, intending to have a hot bath. But as soon as she stood up her head began to throb and she felt sick and giddy. The bathroom seemed as cold as an icehouse, yet when she looked in the mirror her face was flushed and her eyes unnaturally bright. Suddenly the effort of bathing, dressing and going downstairs was more than she could face. Shivering and sneezing, she crawled back to bed and rang for Miller.

“When my husband comes in will you tell him I’ve got rather a bad headache and I won’t be down to dinner, please,” she said huskily.

Miller nodded. “Yes, madam. Is there anything I can get you?”

“No, thanks. I won’t
w
ant anything to eat.”

When the maid had gone she closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but now her whole body was stiff and sore and her head felt as if it were stuffed with damp cotton wool. She was bracing herself to put on her nightdress and get into bed properly when the door opened and Justin appeared.

“Miller tells me you’re not very well,” he said, approaching the bed.

Andrea muffled a sneeze.

“I have a headache,” she said shortly.

“It sounds like a cold.”

He switched on the bedside lamp and looked down at her hot face.

“I’ll be perfectly all right if I’m left alone.” She shielded her eyes from the light, wishing he would go away and leave her to feel wretched in peace. Instead he sat down on the side of the bed and laid his hand on her burning forehead.

“How long have you been like this?” he asked quietly.

She jerked her head away, wincing at the stab of pain that lanced her temples.

“I get these headaches sometimes. It’s nothing to fuss about.”

“But a temperature is,” he said firmly. “Have you been sick at all? I thought you looked a bit off-color this morning.”

“No, of course I haven’t. Do go away and stop badgering me, Justin,” she exclaimed crossly, knowing what a fright she must look with tousled hair and watery eyes. Then, to crown her vexation, her mouth began to tremble, and with humiliating lack of control she burst into tears.

Afterward she was never very clear about what happened next. She remembered being given a large dry-handkerchief in place of her own moist one and having a thermometer put in her mouth. Then Miller was there helping her into a pair of warmed pajamas and finally an elderly man with a gray moustache told her she had influenza and must stay in bed for a day or two. The next forty-eight hours were equally hazy, for she felt too deathly ill to care what was going on around her.

On the third day, after a restless night and a deep exhausted sleep in the early hours, she woke up to find that her head was relatively clear and most of her aches and pains had subsided. In the afternoon she was sufficiently
recovered to eat a lightly boiled egg and some slivers of bread and butter. She was propped up against a bank of pillows, sipping hot milk, when there was a tap at the door and Justin came in.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, pulling up a chair.

“Much better, thank you. I’m sorry to have been such a nuisance.”

“We’ll forgive you,” he said gravely.

“Are these yours?” she asked, indicating the gray silk pyjamas she was wearing. They were several sizes too large and the sleeves had had to be rolled up to fit her.

“Yes. I hope you don’t object to them, but we didn’t want you to get cold in the night, and since your things aren’t designed for warmth those seemed the best alternative.”

“Thank you.” She paused. “I’m sorry I was so cross the other night. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“Don’t worry. Everyone is short-tempered with flu. I expect you still feel pretty low, but a few more days will set that right. I think it might be a good idea to get out of town for a bit as soon as you’re fit. I thought you might like to spend a few days with Aunt Laura.”

“But our trip? I thought we were leaving on Friday?” she exclaimed anxiously.

“My dear child, you won’t be well enough for a long journey by Friday. I doubt if Dr. Allen will let you out of bed before Sunday, and then you’ll have to stay indoors for a day or two.”

“But that’s absurd. I’m practically well now. I’m getting up tomorrow. You can’t mean to cancel everything just because I’ve had a touch of flu.”

“I wouldn’t call it a touch,” he said dryly. “Any degree of flu is something to take seriously. You may think you feel better, but I can assure you you wouldn’t if you were to get up.”

“But the conference
...
my new clothes
...
the plane tickets...” she protested.

Justin leaned forward and removed the glass of milk, which she was in danger of spilling.

“It isn’t the end of the world, my dear,” he said gently. “I’m still going to the conference, but I will come home as soon as it’s over and we’ll postpone the rest of our plans until later in the year.
”

“You mean you’re going without me?”

“I will only be away for a week. Is that such a tragedy?” She did not answer. When Justin made up his mind it was useless to argue, and in her heart she knew that she was not well enough to go with him on a long transatlantic
flight followed by a rush of social engagements. But the prospect of being left behind with nobody but Miller to talk to filled her with gloom.

“Ought you to be in here? You may catch my germs,” she said flatly.

For answer he came and sat on the bed and took her hands in his.

“Don’t look so downcast, child, It’s wretched luck, but much as I would like you with me I am not going to let you risk your health.”

She had a sudden longing to be able to fling her arms around his neck and pour out her disappointment like a child seeking comfort, but she could imagine his embarrassment if she gave way to such emotionalism. Later she attributed the impulse to the forlorn, oversensitive mood that is an aftermath of influenza. She never before needed a shoulder to cry on.

On
Friday afternoon
Justin came home to find Andrea sitting by the library fire. She was wearing a plain gray dress with a stole of pale yellow mohair draped around her shoulders. When he opened the door she was deep in thought, the book on her lap forgotten in some idle daydream.

“Did Dr. Allen say you could come downstairs?” he asked, smiling at her faraway expression.

She jumped, and the book slipped onto the hearthrug.

“Yes, he did. Just for an hour or two,” she said as Justin picked it up and put it aside. “Tomorrow I can get up for breakfast, but he says I must stay indoors for a few days.”

“I’m giving Hubbard instructions to see that you do. He has my full authority to lock you up if you don’t take care of yourself,” Justin said, tossing a small square parcel into her lap.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Open it and see.”

She tore off the wrapping and unfastened the cardboard box inside. In it was a bottle of French perfume and, folded in tissue, paper, a charming Victorian bracelet made of linked garnets.

“A small compensation for missing the bright lights of New York,” he said, lighting a cigarette.

“Oh, Justin, it’s lovely! I really don’t deserve it.” She pushed back her cuff and laid the bracelet on her right wrist, but it was difficult to fasten the clasp, with her left hand so she held it out to him.

He fitted the catch into place and his fingers lingered for a moment against the smoothness of her arm. She wondered if he, too, was remembering what had happened last time he gave her a surprise present.

“Will you miss me, Andrea?” he asked softly, a strange expression on his dark face

“Yes ... of course,” she said uncertainly.

He moved away but continued to watch her.

“They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder,” he said in a conversational tone. “Do you agree?”

Andrea shifted nervously. She suspected him of deliberately baiting her and wondered if he derived some peculiar enjoyment from asking difficult questions and watching her flounder for an answer.

“I don’t know. I suppose it depends on circumstances,” she said cautiously.

“On the degree of fondness preceding the absence, you mean?”

“
I suppose so.”

“In some instances it might be a case of out of sight, out of mind?” His eyes narrowed and there was a hint of mockery at the corners of his mouth.

“I really haven’t thought much about it,” she said with an attempt at carelessness, knowing that she was no match for him in this verbal fencing and resenting the ease with which he could discomfit her.

She was relieved when Hubbard wheeled in the tea wagon and Justin’s attention was diverted to the evening paper.

He was due to leave for the airport at six o’clock, and at a quarter to the hour he was still engrossed in the newspaper. Suddenly she began to dread the moment when he would put it down and say goodbye. For no definable reason her heart started to thud unevenly and her mouth grew dry. With hands that shook a little she poured herself another cup of tea. It was almost cold, but she drank it without noticing.

At five minutes to six Justin folded the paper and dropped it into the magazine rack. He glanced at his watch and then at Andrea. For a long moment their eyes held. Then slowly he stood up and crossed the hearth, holding out his hands.

“It’s time you were back in bed,” he said, drawing her to her feet. “Take care of yourself while I’m away.”

She nodded. “And you.”

He put up a hand and touched the silky wing of hair at her temple, sliding his fingers through its softness until they gripped the nape of her neck. Then, pulling her against him with his other arm, he tilted her head back and kissed her. For perhaps five seconds she was pressed against his strong hard body while his lips brushed her mouth. Then without another word he was gone.

Dazedly she heard the door shut and his voice in the hall. Then the front door slammed and a few minutes later she heard the car draw away.