The Unknown Mr. Brown (8 page)

Amazement turning to pure bliss had illuminated the girl’s thin face with such startling happiness that Kate had known a prick of irritation. It was absurd in this day and age that flowers from a perfect stranger should evoke such astonished delight.

“Well, it’s a handsome gesture, even though some might call five dozen of the best a trifle excessive,” she had said with some dryness, but Victoria had only smiled and alternately stroked a petal and the plain white card with equal tenderness.

“It wouldn’t have hurt him to add a message—many happy returns or even just best wishes,” Kate went on, wondering why she should feel so put out, and Victoria smiled again, the affectionate smile an adult might bestow on a complaining child.

“He never adds anything but his name,” she said serenely, “I suppose the lawyers see to it for him, but he’s never sent me flowers before, so perhaps, this time, he chose them himself.”

“Hardly, when it’s simply a matter of picking up the telephone, stating your requirements and leaving the rest to the florist. Is it his writing on the card?”

“I don’t know. He never writes letters. The only other time he sent me a present Mr. Chappie or Mr. Ponsonby signed the card.”

“Then the florist’s assistant probably did the same. It’s not a particularly distinctive hand. Never mind,” she added hastily with a belated resolution not to spoil the day, “nothing can take away the compliment of five dozen expensive hothouse red roses to grace our rooms, so I, too, must be grateful to your Mr. Brown.”

But she need not have troubled herself with regrets for her lack of enthusiasm. Victoria, her pleasure in the day enriched by such an unexpected tribute to her consequence, shared none of Kate’s misgivings. The occasion was made perfect by the lavish abundance which greeted her eyes in every room, colouring her thoughts and filling the day with promise. Even Timmy, inevitably playing up at bedtime from over-excitement, failed to spoil the evening for her, though for Kate’s sake she was glad when John Squires, arriving with a large box of chocolates to mark the occasion, went up to the nursery and restored peace with little apparent effort.

“You have as much influence over him as Robert,” Kate told him with some surprise when later they were drinking their sherry while awaiting Elspeth’s summons to dinner, and he gave her a rather curious look.

“Well, of course your cousin has the advantage of occupying a pedestal, but even a dull country GP can cultivate a way with children,” he replied with a twinkle and Kate smiled demurely.

“You shouldn’t grudge Robert his place in the sun—he’s known Timmy ever since he was born,” she said.

“Consequently the natural father-substitute in your eyes?”

“Not necessarily, but it’s become rather a habit to depend on Rob. He’s been a good friend to us both, as I think you know, and helped me through a bad time after the accident. I wasn’t very good company then.”

“Very likely, but you had no reason to blame yourself for the boy’s infirmity.”

“If I hadn’t insisted on going in the car with Jim that day, Timmy wouldn’t have been born as he was.”

“That’s only surmise. Shock can certainly cause damage to the unborn child, but no doctor would care to commit himself on the evidence in your case, so bury that bogey where it belongs, in the unalterable past.”

Victoria had moved away, feeling she was eavesdropping as the conversation became unexpectedly personal, and she stood now in the shadows at the far end of the room, rearranging one of the many bowls of roses.

If the doctor had momentarily forgotten Victoria’s presence, Kate had been perfectly aware of her tactful withdrawal and the mischief was back in her voice as she said: “You’re quite oblivious of your social obligations when you get on your hobby horse, John. Here’s our birthday girl politely trying to efface herself when you should be paying her compliments instead of forgetting it’s her party.”

“Victoria is much too sensible to take offence, since I’m neither particularly young or one of her attendant swains,” he answered, quite unabashed.. “But evidently somebody is sufficiently
epris
to spend a small fortune on flowers. I’ve never seen such an extravagant display of horticulture in all my life. Who is he, Victoria?”

“Only Mr. Brown, but as he’s never done such a thing before, it’s rather special,” Victoria replied, coming back to join them again.

“What! The eccentric old gentleman who pays the bills but remains unseen? How very disappointing.”

“Oh, no,” Victoria said, her eyes bright with her inward thoughts, “it’s crowned the whole day. Nothing that Mr. Brown has ever done for me has given me quite the same pleasure.”

Kate said rather quickly: “I’m afraid Victoria, for all the advantages of being finished abroad, still tends to cling to her schoolgirl daydreams.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a bit of daydreaming—we all indulge at times—and even to my untutored eye, being finished abroad has paid off handsomely. It’s a pity there’s only myself here to appreciate the results,” John replied with quiet sincerity. Indeed, he thought she looked charming and refreshingly free of the modern tendency to picturesque squalor, sitting there in her white, full-skirted dress, the soft hair with its demure centre parting falling in a shining curve about her neck and shoulders. She was the sort of daughter he would have liked himself, had he not been fated to be childless, and he found himself wondering what sort of a chap this unknown benefactor might be to content himself with periodic reports of progress and nothing more. By the same token his thoughts wandered to the possible effect a young and unspoilt girl might have on a man of Robert Farmer’s calibre. He was aware that Kate’s rather too well-endowed cousin was not without interest in her protégée, and he wondered, with mixed feelings, how long it would be before Kate herself became conscious that she might have dallied too long in making up her mind.

It was a relief to Victoria that Elspeth chose that moment to announce that dinner was ready, but her pleasure in Kate’s well-intentioned plans to mark the day as something special was beginning to dwindle. It had been a mistake, she thought, to invite the doctor as the sole guest to lend the occasion a party air. She would have been better pleased to sit down with Kate as usual than make up an ill-assorted trio, and although John, doubtless aware that he had started the evening off on the wrong foot, made gallant efforts to amend his shortcomings, she was faintly embarrassed by his avuncular attempts at chivalry. They drank champagne with rather forced gaiety and only Elspeth, summoned to join in a toast to Victoria, treated the occasion as a ceremony. But Elspeth, having excelled herself in the matter of choice dishes, was entitled to insist on ceremony despite the absence of guests, thought Victoria, and knew it would be useless to excuse herself tonight with offers of help with the washing up.

After dinner they watched television, that last standby for filling an empty evening, but John did not stay late, saying he had a call to make on the way home, and Kate made no effort to dissuade him.

“I’m afraid it’s all been rather a flop,” she said to Victoria as she emptied ashtrays and collected glasses after he had gone.

“Oh, no, Kate!” Victoria protested, distressed beyond measure that such good intentions should only bring disappointment. “It’s been a lovely day and you thought up so many nice surprises.”

“Rather as if you were Timmy’s age and expected juvenile treats,” Kate said, and there was a tinge of bitterness in her voice. “But your reactions were irreproachable, Victoria. Never for a moment did you let me feel I was treating you to nursery entertainments.”

Victoria stooped to pick up a cushion and restore it unhurriedly to its proper place, then she said deliberately: “What’s the matter, Kate? It’s not like you to have doubts without foundation. Is it John?”

“That was my worst mistake. I should have known better than to ask him because I felt you should have a party. It made a dull evening for you and a not very profitable one for him.”

“It wasn’t dull, just a little out of my element. I think John’s in love with you.”

“I know. He’s a dear and good and dependable and I owe him so much for his care of Timmy, but sometimes—”

“Sometimes those very virtues work against him.”

“Yes, they do, but how can you know?”

“I don’t really, but I can imagine. Scottie was rather like that, you know, and Father never really appreciated her. I like your John. I don’t find him dull.”

“Neither do I, oddly enough. I’m past the age of demanding pretty speeches and scintillating wit in an admirer, and John would make an excellent husband. His own marriage was a failure, so he wouldn’t expect too much.”

Victoria considered this aspect carefully before answering. She could not altogether feel that riot to expect too much was a virtue, but on the other hand, her own upbringing had taught her the virtue of security and having someone in the background to depend upon, even though it was only the intangible presence of Mr. Brown.

“Well,” she said then, “I wouldn’t know about marriage, of course, but I would think there should be something more than just mutual tolerance.”

“Mutual tolerance is very important, let me tell you, but then you’re young and romantic fervour would naturally come first. Don’t look as though I’d insulted you, darling—it’s only right at your age to think no further than falling in love and living happily ever after.”

“I don’t think I do—think much about falling in love, I mean. If I marry I would certainly hope to feel rather more than mutual tolerance for my husband, but I’ve already learnt that other people seldom have the same needs as oneself.”

“Well, don’t go ascribing false needs to the self-sufficient Mr. Brown on account of one uncharacteristic gesture. I doubt if the flowers mean any more than a belated act of conventional politeness,” Kate said, speaking more brusquely than she meant because Victoria’s uncertain future had begun to trouble her.

“Of course not. All the same—” The telephone rang, cutting short Victoria’s response, and Kate went to answer it, rather relieved that these slightly disturbing exchanges should be broken, but impatient with John Squires, whose voice she expected to hear, for thinking it necessary to apologise for the party’s failure. But it was not John, and she handed the receiver over to Victoria, saying a little irritably:

“It’s Robert for you. A little late with his birthday greetings, but at least he remembered to send a card.” She did not leave the room but resumed the small chores she had started at the beginning of their conversation. If she listened for any betraying nuances in Victoria’s replies, it was quite unconscious, but Victoria, remembering the look on Kate’s face that Sunday afternoon, felt awkward as she answered Robert’s father frivolous enquiries as to how the party had gone.

“It was a pity you couldn’t be here,” she said a little coolly. “It would have been so much nicer for Kate to have even numbers.”

“By which do I gather that the worthy doctor paid all the attention to you and none to poor Kate?”

“Certainly not. In point of fact—”

“In point of fact, it’s you and not Kate who would have benefited by my presence for the feast. Did you play gooseberry?”

“Really, Robert! You have a very good conceit of yourself. As to your last remark, I had no chance to do anything else since it was my party.”

“Kate’s listening, is she? Well, what shall I say to provoke further tantalising observations from your end? Didn’t the conscientious Squires rise to compliments or avail himself of any chaste avuncular salute?”

“No, he did not. Why are you being so nosey, not to say infuriating?” Kate gave a faint, unmatronly giggle and Victoria made a face at her.

“Naturally I’m nosey about what goes on in my absence. I have prior claim in the matter of chaste salutes. Are you being unfaithful to me?”

“Have you been drinking?” she snapped back so sharply that Kate looked round in surprise.

“No, no, I’m most regrettably sober, not having had your excuse for champagne,” he answered. “I was only trying to imagine the festive scene. If there was no excitement beyond Elspeth’s doubtless lordly offerings, what
did
you do with the rest of the evening?”

“We watched television,” said Victoria primly, and felt herself colouring at his burst of ribald laughter.

“Well, well ... I should certainly have been with you to put a stopper on that. And did you have some nice presents?”

“Very nice, and thank you for your card. Did you choose it yourself?”

“Certainly. I thought hearts and flowers very appropriate.”

“Did you? I can’t think why.” But the mention of flowers distracted Victoria from thinking up retorts to put him in his place and she added in quite a different tone of voice: “And what do you think, Robert? I had five dozen gorgeous red roses from Mr. Brown by special delivery.”

“Did you indeed? So the Sphinx has spoken at last, has he? And that, of course, made your day, and probably encouraged unlikely fancies,” he answered, and the mockery in his voice came to her very clearly over the line.

“It made my day, certainly, but I’m a little old now to cherish unlikely fancies,” she said, and Kate, with a quick glance at her face, at last left the room.

“Of course you are twenty and done with the foolish pretence of childhood, but no doubt you have changed them for other and more romantic expectations suitable to your new estate.”

“You,” she shouted down the telephone trying to disguise a sudden desire to cry, “are as unfeeling and—and beastly as you were that day in court, mocking and—and brow-beating just for kicks. Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”

“Has Kate gone?” he asked with seeming irrelevance. “Yes? I thought she must have or you wouldn’t have dared to talk to me like that.” But he must have heard the tremor in her voice, for his own suddenly lost its provocative raillery and became gentle. “Don’t think badly of me, dear Victoria Mary. The habit of levity grows upon one as a necessary defence. I have no wish ever to hurt you by banter, so bear with me kindly if you will.”

His capitulation was so unexpected and the warmth in his voice so beguiling that her tears waited no longer.

“Are you crying?” Robert asked after a long silence, and when she answered “No” in a suspiciously shaky voice, he swore softly at the other end of the line.

“Now I’ve spoilt the day for you. Go on hating me if it eases you my child. One day I’ll hope to show you a different Robert Farmer. Till then, dream your dreams and fight your dragons to your heart’s content. Good night, now, and a belated but very sincere many happy returns.”

He had rung off before she had time to thank him or adjust her mood to his and as she turned to replace the receiver she saw Kate standing in the doorway watching her.

“Well, have you made your peace?” she asked, but her voice held none of its usual indulgence and Victoria was again reminded that where Robert was concerned Kate had very definite reservations.

“I suppose I should know him better by now than to take his teasing seriously,” she answered evasively.

“Yes, you should. And that could apply to other things, too. It would be a pity if you allowed your head to be turned for want of a little worldly experience.”

Victoria stared at her, the tears still bright on her lashes, and felt the colour begin to creep up under her skin.

“Kate,” she said gravely, “I’m not so inexperienced that I’m likely to read more into a casual incident than was intended.”

For a moment Kate looked embarrassed as if she had not expected to be met with such a direct response, then she rubbed her eyelids as though they ached and sat down on the arm of a chair.

“I’m sorry, Victoria, I shouldn’t have said that,” she replied, sounding suddenly tired. “I’m very fond of Robert, you see, and I wouldn’t like him to be hurt all over again.”

All at once Victoria lost her temper.

“Why can’t you come straight out with it and tell me not to trespass?” she demanded. “If it gives you any comfort, Robert is the last man who would turn my head, so don’t let a casual kiss disturb any personal claims. If he flatters himself he’s made an easy conquest then you can disabuse him in no uncertain terms. I’m sorry you happened to witness that incident, but don’t lose any sleep on his account or mine.”

“Oh, dear! I have made a mess of things!” Kate said, looking defeated and rather surprised. “I’m afraid you’ve completely misunderstood my well-intentioned efforts, but, unlike everything else today, I seem to have made errors of judgment.”