The Youngest Bridesmaid (28 page)

Tibby stood, gaunt and erect at the window.
“
See,
”
she said, pointing, as Lou joined her.
“
Lights ... voices
...
the storm has surely lessened that you can hear the voices
...”

They stood together, the old woman and the young girl, straining their eyes against the darkness.
Lou, in
the first great tide of thankfulness that swept her, could only send wordless thanks to those strange-sounding Cornish saints who Tibby had invoked so often. She could see the same moving lanterns as before and make out muffled shouts above the abat
in
g wind. She could not distinguish returning figures, but Tibby
’
s eyes were quicker from long custom.

“There’s only one ...
there
’
s only one of
‘
em come back ...
‘
tes a jud
g
ment,
”
she said, and there was a grim acceptance in her voice which quenched for the moment Lou
’
s flood of happiness that the one returning could only be Piers.

She wanted to run to meet him, to have that blessed reunion out there in the anonymous darkness of the island, but she must not abandon Tibby to wait alone for the tidings which Piers would bring.
So they stood together, and even when the front door slammed and a man
’
s firm footstep could be heard on the flags, Lou stayed where she was, resting a comforting hand on the old servant
’
s shoulder.

Piers paused in the doorway, observing them both for a moment in silence. He looked very tired and there was disappointment in the quick glance he gave his wife as if he
h
ad expected something else of her. He seemed too weary to discard the wet oilskin that hung loosely from his shoulders, and his sea-boots left little pools of water on the clean kitchen floor.

“
Still up, Lou? It
’
s very late,
”
he said tonelessly, and she knew instinctively that he misunderstood her apparent reluctance to run to him, touch him, weep, even in thankfulness for his safe return.

“
Sam?
”
she said, and he became aware then of Tibby
’
s rigidity, and of the mute question in both their faces.

“
Sam
’
s all right,
”
he replied.
“
He was washed ashore with a broken leg, which serves him right, but he
’
s sitting very pretty in St. Bede
’
s Cottage Hospital, so take that look off your face, Tibby, you old faggot, and you, Cinderella, show a little more enthusiasm for your husband
’
s safe return.
”

Lou ran to him then, whispering
h
er thankfulness into his damp shoulder, tasting the salt on his lips as she kissed him, groping with eager fingers for the reality of flesh and blood and bone. He saw now the strain in her face, and felt the urgency in the hands which were seeking so feverishly for reassurance, and he held her close against him for a moment, too moved to speak at once.

“
Why,
Lou...” he s
aid then, softly,
“
do you care so much?
”

“
You shouldn
’
t need to ask me,
”
she answered, forgetting Tibby
’
s presence altogether.
“
Did you think I had no welcome for you, Piers? Didn
’
t you understand that until I was sure for Tibby I couldn
’
t—couldn
’
t flaunt my own happiness in her face?
”

“
No, I suppose I didn
’
t. I
’
ve understood very little about you, altogether, I think, Cinderella.
”

She smiled a little tremulously.

“
Are you always going to call me that?
”

“
Probably. Shall you mind?
”

She gave a small sigh.

“
Not really, only—
”

“
Only what?
”

“
I don
’
t want to stay a story-book character for ever. E
v
en Cinderella, once she had recovered from her rags-to-riches shock, must have expected to be taken seriously by her Prince Charming.
”

“
And don
’
t I take you seriously enough, Lou? I don
’
t flatter myself that I
’
m any Prince Charming, but at least that gentlemen had no doubts to conquer once he saw the slipper flitted.
”

“
What do you mean, doubts?
”

“
As to whether he
’
d been fair—as to whether his princess would understand that he was not being tardy or reluctant, but simply anxious to amend his neglected wooing.
”

She did not answer at once, conscious of the strange quiet. The sudden cessation of the storm seemed to her as miraculous as the promise of felicity which she read in Piers
’
face. She reached up a hand to brush away the drops of water trickling from his hair, then, remembering now that they were not alone, glanced quickly over her shoulder; but Tibby had gone. She must have slipped away with that noiseless secretiveness which once had seemed so sinister, and Lou gave a little sigh of capitulation.

“
I understand now,
”
she said,
“
for you don
’
t
seem a stranger any more. You see, I couldn
’
t help myself falling in love with you, so that when you—
”

“
When I failed you as a lover and a husband you thought I was regretting our marriage?
”

“
Well, yes ... and then Melissa came
.
..
”

She saw his face darken and wished she had not chosen that moment to remind him of the bride he should have married, but the mischief Melissa had wrought had to be faced between them some time.

“
We will both of us try to forget your cousin,
”
Piers said with the old note of arrogance.
“
You, having a trusting nature, were scarcely to be expected not to take her at face value, but I should have known better. I apologize, Lou.
”

“
For loving her?
”

She was unprepared for the rough shaking he gave her and the savage exasperation which crept into his voice.

“
I never loved her, you little fool! It was a marriage of convenience, which I thought everyone understood—Blanche certainly did. Oh, I was sufficiently attracted physically to render the relationship painless while it lasted, but I
’
ve felt that way about many women and never loved any of them.
I
’
d come to accept the fact, you see, that honest affection and a great deal of money weren
’
t compatible, and then I had to go and marry you.
”

He seemed to speak with such resentment that she blinked up at him a little nervously.

“
You didn
’
t
have
to,
”
she said,
“
but now that you have—and now that you say you can
’
t love anyone—
”

“
Well?
”

“
It
’
s—it
’
s going to stay that way, that
’
s all. I—I
’
m old-fashioned, you see.
”

“
Certainly it
’
s going to stay that way—I
’
m old
-
fashioned myself, now I think of it—and I didn
’
t say I couldn
’
t love anyone—I simply said I never had. Good grief, Cinderella, do you want things spelt out for you?
”

But for the first time she was undisturbed by his quick impatience, for the first time she knew faith in herself as a woman. She lowered her lashes and glanced up at him through them with unconscious invitation.

“If
spelling things out means a formal declaration, then I do. Even Cinderella must have been told she was loved at some point in the story,
”
she answered sedately.
“
Do you know What Tibby said to me? She
said
‘
pleasure him, missis.
’
”

He looked amused.

“
Did she, indeed? That
’
s an expression dating back to the Restoration,
”
he said.
“
Do you know what it means?
”

“
What it says, I suppose, and it would—it would pleasure
me
very much, dear, difficult Piers, if you would do a little of that spelling for me.
”

“
And don
’
t you know—even now?
”

“
Perhaps. Even so it
’
s only polite to put such things into words,
”
she said.

“
That,
”
he replied, suddenly catching sight of the time on the kitchen clock,
“
is pure vanity and not to be indulged at two o
’
clock in the morning. You
’
re looking worn out, my poor darling, and I must own to being a bit whacked myself, so no more of these rather blatant red herrings.
”

He saw the momentary disappointment in her face and his smile was tender as he turned her gently round towards the door.

“
You shall have all you want of me tomorrow, Cinderella,
”
he said gravely.
“
I want our uninvited guest out of the house before we begin afresh—do you understand?
”

“
Yes,
”
she said, and knew that he was right. With Melissa gone the slate would be wiped clean again.

Tomorrow, she thought, drowsily mounting the stairs with Piers
’
supporting arm about her, the island would regain its magic and work its spell, for of course, it was enchanted. Hadn
’
t she known from the very beginning that it was all a dream?

“
I shall wake up, of course,
”
she said, and was unaware that she had spoken aloud until Piers picked her up and carried her the rest of the way, saying:

“
You
’
re half asleep already, my poor bemused Cinderella. You
’
ll wake up, I hope, to a happier day. I have a lot of leeway to make up, Lou, and a lot of amends before I join you in your fairy tale.
”

“
You
’
re
nice...” s
he murmured like a pleased child whose make
-
believe has been taken seriously, and he laughed. But it was no longer make
-
believe, she thought, as he laid her on her bed, even though for her the fairy tale must persist for a time because she was little Louise Parsons to whom nothing exciting ever happened.

“
But I
’
m not—not any more,
”
she said, sitting up on the bed, suddenly very wide awake.

“
Not what?
”
he asked with a lifted eyebrow.
“
You appear to be having some rather confusing thoughts, or are you dreaming again?
”

“
Not Louise Parsons.
”

“
No, indeed. You
’
re Louise Merrick—Mrs. Piers Merrick, and don
’
t you forget it.
”