Never to Love (18 page)

The following morning
Aunt Laura telephoned from Paddington Station and commanded Andrea to meet her for coffee, after which they would choose a dress together.

“I may as well have the benefit of your expert advice,” she said with a chuckle when they met. “These flibbertigibbet young shop gels take no interest in old women of my age. Don’t think that because I’m eighty-two next birthday you can fob me off with some shapeless black garment, child. I’ve never been dowdy and I don’t mean to start now.”

As it turned out. Aunt Laura had little need of Andrea’s help, as she had
an
excellent eye for cut and finish and knew very well what suited her slim, still erect figure. Having bought a graceful wool dress in a flattering shade of deep lilac, she went on to choose a suede jacket for sitting in her garden and several plain but expensive silk blouses, the cuffs of which were to be altered to fit her fine-boned wrists.

It was after one o’clock by the time she had concluded her purchases, and she suggested that they should have a quick lunch and then see an Italian film that had been praised by the critics.

“You’re looking tired, child,” she said over the lunch. “When I heard you had gone down to Lingard, I hoped Justin might decide to spend the summer there. What brought you back so soon?”

“Justin had some business to attend to. He did suggest that I should stay on, but I thought it would be dull by myself.”

“You’re not expecting a child, are you?” Aunt Laura asked.

Andrea shook her head.

“Pity. There’s nothing like a child for cementing a marriage. However, that’s your business, and most young people seem to prefer to wait a year or two nowadays.”

“Do you think our marriage needs cementing?” Andrea said cautiously. She had never been sure how much Aunt Laura guessed.

“Every marriage does,” the old lady said wisely, and then, with a twinkle in her shrewd blue eyes, she went on, “The fact is, I’m a selfish old woman. I’m looking forward to having some more great-nephews and nieces to amuse me. Madeline’s children were always kept well out of the way when they were little and I was never allowed to take them out or watch them playing as one likes to do when one is my age. I’m hoping that when you and Justin have a family I may enjoy the privilege of a great-aunt and spoil them a trifle.”

Andrea did not reply for a moment. Then she said slowly. “The first time we met you seemed to approve of me as a wife for Justin. I’ve never understood why. I thought his family would want him to marry someone quite different from myself.”

“A gel from his own walk of life, you mean?”

“Yes, the daughter of people you knew, or one of Madeline’s set. Not a complete outsider.”

“Strange how the younger generation are so much more old-fashioned than those of us who remember what used to be,” Aunt Laura said reflectively. “You talk of being an outsider, but what are you outside of? When I was your age, society was divided into three rigid classes, and there was a great to-do if anyone rose or fell from what used to called his ‘station’ in life. But all that has passed away. Nowadays, we judge people on their merits and not by their family circumstances. No, my dear, the reason I approved of Justin’s choice of a bride had nothing to do with those outdated standards. I saw at once that you had the essential qualification to make him a good wife—character. If Justin had married a girl of weak character it would have been a catastrophe.”

“I am not sure that I know what you mean by character.”

“It’s not easy to define, although one can sense it, or the lack of it, immediately. By character I mean a blend of determination, courage and. resource, a positive approach to life instead of this aimlessness that seems so prevalent,” Aunt Laura said. “Justin is an extremely strong character. Even as a child he would never let anything defeat him, and in his early twenties, when so many young men are quite feckless, he was extraordinarily steady and reliable. Life wasn’t easy for him at that time. As you know, he and Madeline have little in common, and without any natural ties he might quite well have gone to the devil, as they used to say in my day. Life is full of temptations for a good-looking boy with a great deal of money. I was always so afraid that he would marry some scatterbrained creature with no thoughts beyond clothes and parties. Of course, it is only natural that young women should like pretty things and a gay life, but Justin needs a personality to balance his own.”

The waiter approached with the cheese platter and Aunt Laura paused to consider her choice. Having selected some Roquefort and waited until he was out of earshot, she went on. “I have never subscribed to the maxim that opposites agree. A dynamic man and a droopy woman are bound to get on each other’s nerves in no time, whereas a couple of similar temperament stimulate each other. They may have clashes and quarrels, but that is better than being bored as Madeline is bored by poor Robert.”

“You spoke of children cementing a marriage,” Andrea said. “Madeline and Robert have children.”

“Yes, and if Madeline had any maternal instincts it might have made all the difference to their life together. Unfortunately she hasn’t, and Robert’s devotion to them seems to irritate her,” the old lady replied disapprovingly. “Of course, half the trouble is that she hasn’t enough to do. If Robert were a poor man she would be too occupied with making ends meet to be discontented.”

“Wouldn’t that be likely to make her even more resentful of Robert?” Andrea suggested. “I don’t think being hard up draws people closer together.”

“Neither does wealth, my dear. It offers too many distractions from the real business of living,” Aunt Laura said wisely. “Now we must hurry or we will miss the beginning of the movie.”

Some evenings later,
when Justin was at a dinner to mark the retirement of an employee of one of the companies he controlled, Simon called to tell Andrea that he was off on a new assignment in Canada.

His job, he explained, was to find out how British emigrants were settling down in their new life and assess the future of Canada as a world power. It would take several weeks of intensive traveling and interviewing and after that there was a plan on the cards to send him to Japan.

As he talked enthusiastically about the scope of the assignment and the places he hoped to visit, Andrea realized how much she would miss his visits.

“When are you leaving?” she asked.

“
The day after tomorrow.”

“I expect you’ll be glad to get back to work?”

“Yes, in a way.”

“Have you been to Canada before?”

“No, as a matter of fact it’s one of the few countries I’ve never touched. I know Japan pretty well, though of course by the time I get through the Canadian thing the powers may decide to send me somewhere else.”

As they talked she sensed that something was troubling him. He seemed curiously ill at ease, and once or twice she made a remark and he had to apologize and ask her to repeat it.

Then, after a pause in which she could find nothing to say and Simon was obviously deep in his own thoughts, he said suddenly, “Tell me something. Are you happy, Andrea?”

She shot him a quick startled glance and looked away again.

“What a peculiar question,” she said with forced lightness, getting up from
her chair to refill their sherry glasses.

“And one that you don’t want to answer, I gather?”

She stiffened. “Why shouldn’t I be happy?”

“That’s what I’ve wondered,” he said in a low tone.
“On the face of it you have everything a woman can want.
But you aren’t happy, are you?”

“My dear Simon, I really don’t
see...” She
broke off, floundering for a suitable reply.

“I wish I were.”

“Were what?”

“Your dear Simon.”

Before she could realize what he was about, he had sprung up and seized her hands.

“Andrea, you must know how
I
feel about you. Heaven knows I didn’t want this to happen, but it’s too strong for me. Every time
I
look at you my heart turns over. No
...
let me finish. I love you. I have done for weeks. It’s been hell to see you looking so lost and forlorn and not being able to do anything about it. If only we’d met sooner when you were free
...
”

“Oh, please stop! You don’t know what you’re saying.” Andrea wrenched her hands out of his, white and trembling with the shock of his impassioned outburst.

“Oh, yes, I do,” he said hoarsely. “I know that I love you. That I could make you happier than Templar ever will. Do you think I haven’t guessed how things stand between you? My dearest darling, you can’t go on living this empty life, with a man who only wants you for your looks. What can he give you that really matters?”

“You have no right to say such things,” she cried wretchedly.

“But they’re true, aren’t they? You can’t
deny that there’s no real feeling, no love between you. Why not face it? He wants you only as an ornament, not as a real wife. Come away with me, Andrea. We can make a new life together. I’ll look after you. I can’t give you the luxuries that Templar has, but I’ll make you happy, I swear it.”

And then, so swiftly that she had no chance to evade him, he seized her in his arms and began raining passionate kisses on her face and neck. For an instant Andrea was too paralyzed to resist, and then, as his lips crushed down on her, she struggled to free herself, using her full strength to escape from his crushing embrace.

As suddenly as he had caught her, he let her go and stepped back so abruptly that she almost fe
ll.
They stared at each other. Simon was flushed and breathing hard but Andrea’s face was ashen, her eyes bright with tears.

“Good evening.”

Both turned and Andrea gave a strangled gasp of dismay, for there, watching them from the doorway, stood Justin.

CHAPTER
EIGHT

There was a terrible silence
until, without taking his eyes off Simon, Justin said quietly, “Will you leave us, please, Andrea.”

His face and voice were perfectly controlled, but the steely glitter in his eyes sent a quiver of fear down her spine. She looked at Simon and saw his fists clench.

“Now, look here, Templar
...
” he began angrily.

But whatever he had intended to say was quelled b
y
the contemptuous lift of Justin’s eyebrows.

Still without looking at her, Justin stepped back and opened the door. Andrea hesitated a moment longer and then, knowing there was nothing she could say to avert the inevitable climax, she left the room.

Slowly, with bowed shoulders, she climbed the wide staircase. The youngest housemaid, who had just finished turning down the beds, hastily backed into the shadows of the hallway as she passed because the junior servants were not supposed to use the main stairs. Later she confided to the kitchen maid that she had seen the mistress looking ever so queer and with a great rent in her lovely black dress. Surely the master couldn’t have been knocking her about?

Andrea did not discover that her dress was torn until some time later when, after sitting at the dressing table with her head in her hands, she glanced in the mirror and saw that her left shoulder was bare. The fragile fabric must have ripped when she was struggling to free herself from Simon’s passionate embrace.

With a shiver of revulsion, she took the dress off and bundled it into the back of the wardrobe. Then, putting on a thin silk robe, she went into the bathroom and washed off her makeup.

As she returned to the bedroom, the front door slammed with a violence that reverberated through the house, and hurrying to the window, she was just in time to see Simon’s car shoot away from the curb. There was a screech of tires as it hurtled around the corner and then the engine note died away into the night. A few moments later the door behind her opened and Justin came in. He did not speak immediately, but shut the door and leaned against it, his arms folded, watching her. Andrea’s blood chilled at the look on his face, and drawing the robe closer around her she instinctively retreated a step or two behind the couch.

At last Justin spoke.

“Having dealt with Brennan, I shall be interested to hear your version of the rather remarkable incident downstairs,” he said icily.

“My version? I don’t understand.”

“No? I would have thought that when a man walks into his house to find his wife repelling the advances of another man, he is entitled to some account of the situation. Or am I being too exacting?”

She drew a sharp breath. “I thought you saw what happened.”

“Unfortunately I missed all but the finale. Why was Brennan here?”

“He ... he came to tell me about a new assignment in Canada.”

“And being alone you welcomed his company,
I
gather?”

“Why not? I’ve always liked him—until tonight,” she said miserably.

“What happened must have been quite a shock to you.” His tone was silky
now.

“Naturally it was. I had no idea that he
...
felt like that about me.”

Justin’s lip curled. “Do you really expect me to believe that?” he asked bitingly.

“What do you mean? How could I have known?”

“I wouldn’t have thought Brennan was the type to lose his head without some encouragement.”

She had expected him to be in a white-hot rage at Simon’s behavior, but until this moment it had not occurred to her that he would hold her to blame. Now, at this point-blank indictment, she sprang up trembling with indignation.

“How dare you say that!” she flared. “I
’
ve never thought of him as anything but a friend. You have no right to make such a horrible accusation.”

“But not an unnatural one in the circumstances, do you think?”

She was too angry to measure her words.

“All right. Supposing I did flirt with him,” she said recklessly. “Why shouldn’t I amuse myself? Or am
I
supposed to sit meekly at home while you relax with Rosa Abbott?”

“What are you talking about?” he demanded fiercely, “What the devil has Rosa to do with this?
”

“I suppose you thought I wouldn’t find out,” she said bitterly. “Not that it makes any difference—but it would have been fairer to mention the matter when we made our bargain.”

“What the blazes are you getting at?” he snapped.

“Simply this: while you have a mistress I don’t think you are entitled to question my activities.”

The anger in his face was replaced by an expression of what seemed to be genuine astonishment.

“While I have a mistress
...”
he repeated slowly. “Where did you get that fantastic idea?”

“Does it matter? I was bound to find out eventually.”

“Certainly it matters.
I
want to know exactly what you’ve heard and where.”

“I don’t want to discuss it,” she said coolly.

“But I do.” There was a dangerous glint in his eyes. Andrea shrugged her shoulders with an assumption of nonchalance, but her pulses were unsteady.

“Very well. If you must know, I overheard two of the guests at Lady Bartley’s dinner party discussing your
...
association with Miss Abbott. I gather that it was common knowledge.”

“So that was why you locked yourself in your room,” he said slowly. “I thought you had more sense than to listen to gossip. I suppose it didn’t occur to you to ask me if it were true?”

“Why should it? You would only have denied it.”

“
Lying is not one of my vices.”

“Oh, what does it matter now?” she said wearily. “If you hadn’t accused me of encouraging Simon, I wouldn’t have mentioned it. It’s none of my business what you do.”

“Your faith in me is flattering,” he said bitterly. “I don’t expect you to believe this, but Rosa Abbott is not and never has been my mistress.”

“Then why do you visit her, and why have you been so careful never to mention her?”

“Rosa’s husband is one of my oldest friends,” he said after a short pause. Very few people know that she is married. As you may know, she never gives interviews and avoids all personal publicity. When she married John he was also on the stage. He was very good-looking and would probably have become one of our leading actors, but during the war he was almost shot to pieces. Besides being crippled he’s badly disfigured—so badly that he will allow only two or three people to see him, including myself. When I visit their apartment it is to see him, not Rosa. The press have never got hold of the story because a clause in Rosa’s contract made it necessary to keep the marriage a secret for several months, and during the war there were more serious matters to make headlines. The only
wa
y the papers may drop onto it is when John dies, which unhappily won’t be very long now. Until then Rosa doesn’t intend to let her private tragedy become a cheap sensation in the gutter press.”

Andrea struggled with a number of reactions, the strongest being a rush of shame.

She had always despised women who spread malicious rumors, yet in believing that Rosa was Justin’s mistress she had been as guilty of cruel and damaging scandalmongering as the two women whose careless chatter she had overheard. In fact her guilt was heavier, for without any proof, without even a moment’s doubt, she had sat in judgment on the man who had every claim to her trust and loyalty. That the truth was so pitiful was doubly shaming.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a low voice, knowing how wretchedly inadequate any apology must be.

Justin turned away toward the window.

“Is that why you let Brennan fall in love with you—because you believed I had a secret liaison?” he asked.

“But I didn’t, Justin,” she said, miserably aware that she had no right to expect his trust when her own had failed. “Until this evening I hadn’t the faintest inkling that he was
...
that he felt like that. If I had, I would have stopped seeing him.”

“I thought women were supposed to sense these things.”

“I wish I had. Then all this would never have happened.”

“Perhaps it was as well that it did,” he said, turning back to face her. “How does it feel to arouse such violent emotion?”

“Must we talk about it?” she said distastefully. “It isn’t a very pleasant subject.”

“I imagine Brennan feels the same way. He’s probably drinking himself into a merciful haze.”

“How can you be so hard!” she burst out. “I’m not excusing Simon for what he did, but surely you don’t have to be so brutal about it. It isn’t a crime to lose one’s head
.”

Justin eyed her sardonically for some seconds.

“I wonder if you would be so forgiving if I had lost mine and given him the thrashing he deserved?”

“I don’t think there was much danger of that. You never lose control, do you, and you have no tolerance for people who do.”

She moved toward the bathroom, intending to make it clear that the conversation was finished. But with two swift strides he had barred her way.

“You little fool, Andrea,” he said softly. “Don’t you know there’s a limit to everything, even my endurance?”