To love and to honor (28 page)

Authors: Emilie Baker Loring

BOOK: To love and to honor

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He was going quietly. Cindy laid her hand on his arm.

"Hal. Hal, I—I don't believe you stole those jewels," she affirmed brokenly.

"Thanks, sugar. That must be the reason you ran away from the playhouse this afternoon, you trusted me." His voice was brittle with repression. "Let's get going. Quick."

As he and "Joe" left the room the man called Simpkins stopped beside Cinderella.

"Believe it or not. Miss Clinton, I was about crazy when they told me you were in that limousine I put on the act with. It was my car, by the way. I started to tell you at the playhouse this afternoon, but you ran away before I had a chance." He ran his hand under the collar of his beige shirt as if it were choking him. "When I think of what might have happened—"

"That didn't." Stewart's hand rested lightly on his shoulder as if he liked him.

"Thanks, Colonel. Sorry to take you away from her— here," he grinned, a likable grin, as he made the correction, "but you cracked this case, you've got to come. There's a lady waiting for you."

"Go ahead. I'll be along in a minute." Ken Stewart turned to Cinderella. "This does it. I told you it would finish in a burst of speed." She caught his sleeve.

"Give me a minute. Have you known all this time that the person to whom I referred as 'the man with the tilted hat,' was an agent working on the smuggling case?"

"Remember the evening I stepped into the old kitchen via the window?" She nodded.

"Remember I told you then that I had seen the lights of a parked car near The Castle? It was the man whom Harding called Simpkins waiting to contact me to tell me he was working on the case. I must go. We have a date tomorrow evening, Cinderella. I won't have a moment free until then. She hasn't had dinner, Sary. Make her eat something. Good night."

Sarah Ann Parker's eyes followed him as he left the room, came back to the collection of articles on the floor which had preceded Harding's catapult from the secret staircase.

"So, that's where your tennis cups were exhibited, Cindy? And Hal thought I laid the trap. Perhaps you wouldn't have done it if you'd known who you'd catch." She sniffed. "Look at your great-grandmother's beautiful Canova plates, scattered and most of 'em broken. If only I'd thought quick enough to pull open the cupboard. I hope you think your idea was worth it."

"Like the Northwest Mountie, I got my man. Sary, I can't believe that Hal—" her voice broke.

"There, there, child, put him out of your mind. Sakes alive, what you got on? So much excitement I hadn't noticed them blue slacks and white shirt before. They hang on you like a size forty-five on a size thirty-eight scarecrow. Where'd you pick 'em up?"

Cindy told her, gave a thumbnail sketch of her adven-

tures. Sary's eyes threatened to pop from her head. She concluded:

"I'm going up now to shed these borrowed clothes. We'll have them cleaned and pressed and return them to the owner. I wonder where she'll be?"

"We'll know soon enough. Come to the kitchen after you've changed. Colonel Stewart told me to get you something to eat. Wouldn't you know he'd think of that? Didn't you tell me that when he was a boy he was always bringing home lost kittens and dogs to care for?"

"I happen to be neither a lost kitten nor a dog, Miss Parker."

"Want to know somethin'? I'll bet he doesn't think you are. There's half a cold chicken in the icebox and the makings of a fresh peach shortcake. Hurry down. I'm starvin' myself."

THIRTY

The first day of September. What would the month bring, Cindy wondered. Already it had added autumn tang to the air, had brought deeper, more vivid color to the flower border in the patio: the strong yellows and reds of calendulas and zinnias; a rosy cloud of feathery chrysanthemums, flanked by snowy white, which in turn snuggled against a deep rose-colored variety; monkshood and tall blue asters; enormous dahlias, pink, yellow, crimson by the majestic score; a bronzed grackle instead of a robin bathing in the shallows of the pool.

All this and heartache too, she thought as she looked at Tom Slade in citified gray flannels sitting across the glass table laden with silver and china. When Sarah had reported the telephone message that he was coming, she had declared that the poor boy needed hot tea since he was just out of hospital. He hadn't cared much for it. He glanced up from the silver spoon he had been tapping against a saucer.

"Sure you mean it, lovely?"

"Tom, Tom, dear, I—I wish I didn't. I honestly wish I could say I loved you enough to marry you. I do love you, but not that way."

He leaned forward eagerly.

"If you love me at all, how do you know you wouldn't go all out for me if we were married?"

She shook her head.

"I married once without any kind of love—if one can call a ceremony not performed by a clergyman or an accredited officer of the law marriage. I won't marry

again until I—I feel that I'll die if the man I love doesn't love me." How could she have let herself go like that? Her voice had shaken.

"That's the answer." He rose and as she stood up, placed his fingers under her chin and raised it till he could look into her eyes. "I doubt if you have to die, lovely. Don't drop those spectacular lashes. You can't hide your heart from me. Don't you think I love you enough to want you to be happy?" He reached for a glass of water.

"Funny, since that spill my voice gets roughed up easily. I'm starting over the road early tomorrow for home and work, plenty of work. The government agent who beat it with the black limousine has had my convertible repaired and has paid the hospital bill. Fair enough."

"That doesn'^t compensate for your suffering. Tom, do you think you ought to make the trip now? Wait until you get your strength back."

"What do you mean, my strength back? Not insinuating that that little accident has made a sissy of me, laid me up permanently, are you?"

"Don't beat me, Thomas." Her laugh was shaky.

"Then watch your step, woman. Want to know some-thin'? Jupiter, but I'm going to miss Sary—there is a rumor that the Fane girl has a husband in the army."

"I suspected it the night of the Armstrongs' dinner when the Missing Persons announcer told of the Captain who was trying to find his wife. She turned ghastly and almost upset her coffee cup."

"They say—correction, Ella Crane says—she is going back to him now that it looks as if Hal Harding would be removed from circulation for a time. She has been on his trail."

"Then you have heard about Hal, Tom?"

"Sure. I was at the hearing this morning while testimony was being presented pro and con."

"Why, why did he do it? He didn't need the money."

"That's the catch, he did. Divorcing two wives because each time you've seen a gal you like better is expensive business. The smuggling gang has been

snitching jewels and priceless objets d'art abroad, selling the loot here and sending cash back to finance the overthrow of a certain government. It got a whopping percentage. He kept out that bag of jewels to finance himself. That's where he stumbled."

"How could he get so out of character with his background and his life? It's tragic."

"Leaving out the crime of dishonesty, how could a man of his intelligence—that's what gets me—have been so stupid as to tie up with an enterprise like that? It was like touching pitch—if he tried to get rid of it old debbil blackmail was at his shoulder—he had the choice of two evils, paying through the nose the rest of his life, or being caught. Something tells me that Kenniston Stewart would rather not have it, but the credit of breaking this case will go to him. It seems that before he came to this town he had started to investigate Harding's past and present—"

"Before he came here? How could he have heard of him?"

"Ask him. I'm off. I won't say good-by, lovely. Just, I'll be seeing you."

She sank into her seat at the table, eyes on the house door which had closed softly behind him. His voice had broken on the last word. Why did love have to hurt? Why, why couldn't she have loved him instead of a man who didn't love her?

"Peter, Peter, had a wife and couldn't keep her." Hal Harding's rasping voice shot to th top of her mind "Didn't want to keep her," if Hal but knew it, she corrected. "There's a lady waiting for you, Colonel," the man Simpkins had reminded. Of course, it was' Ally Barclay. Was Sary right? Did he want to marry her?

"Cindy," Sarah Ann Parker's voice was followed by the slam of the door behind her. She looked down at the table. "Sakes alive, you two didn't eat any of my mushroom canapes, and Mr. Slade used to gobble them by the dozen. What happened?"

"He pretends he's in the pink, but I think he's still feeling the effects of the accident."

"I guess you're right. Perhaps there's some other trou-

ble mixed in with it. He told me he was startin' for home tomorrow at daybreak, handed me a ten-dollar bill an' said, 'Sary, credit that to all the soda lemonades you've mixed and the brownies you've baked for me.' Nice boy, I felt kinder sorry for him." She sniffed and wiped her eyes.

"Sarah Ann Parker, stop it, or you'll have me crying." She helped place cups and plates on the tray. "Why the bandaged finger? What happened to it?"

"Darius came in early this morning with a red squirrel dangling from his jaws. I got the poor thing away from him an' then it sunk its sharp teeth into my finger. O-o-ooch, it hurt. Those little things fight back fierce, when caught."

"If the creature had had a sense of poetic justice it would have bitten Darius instead of you. It might have taught that black cat a lesson. You said you intended to drop in at Ella Crane's, I suppose you have all the details of the Rockledge activities at your tongue's end."

"Sakes alive, Ella is doing a rushing business, everyone in town is droppin' in. The women feel terribly sorry 'bout Hal Harding—one time or another he had 'em all with their tongues hangin' out, an' I guess from all accounts he's the one to be sorry for, the rest of the gang have been workin' the racket in other places for a couple of years. I liked him, but I never trusted him. Seems that the tough guy we thought was Rena Foster's beau was here to help catch the smugglers. Funny, ain't it, we should have smugglers at Pirate's Cove again? Seems kind of fitting."

"Fittingl Sarah Ann Parker, you have a perverted dramatic sense."

"So long's I've got somethin' dramatic in my make-up, it's all right with me. One thing came out at the hearin', Rena Foster confessed that when she came into the kitchen, the day you had that queer sleepin' spell—she thought we was all away an' come in with that big basket to pick up the jewels for Hal Harding—she waited till he left by the front way an' she came in the back door. In court she made sure he didn't get clear an' leave her holding the bag."

"Then she was working both sides of the street. Helping him against the woman by whom she was employed."

"That wouldn't worry her none. Want to know some-thin', Cindy? Seems I've been suspected of spyin' on the folks at Rockledge, of flashing lights to the yacht and misleading it."

"You, Sary? Where and how did you hear that?"

"I met the man we'd thought was Rena Foster's beau on the street—he isn't so tough-lookin' when he smiles. I guess that face gets him the detective job. No one look-in' at him would think he was on the side of law an' order. He stopped me.

" 'See here, Miss Parker,' said he. 'Fools rush in where angels fear to tread. You were taking a crazy chance when you butted in on the smugglers. I happen to know that one night a couple in a boat tied to The Castle landing was ready to garrote you if you appeared.' Must have been the night you yanked off my bathrobe, Cindy-then he went on, 'Did you get the warning I slipped into Miss Clinton's pocket at the masquerade?' Kind of exciting, isn't it?"

"Exciting? The possibilities are hair-raising. Then it was the clown who tucked the note into my pocket? Sarah Ann Parker, was he right? Did you mix into the Rockledge mess?"

Her grin was half triumph, half admission.

"Twice I flashed lights that sent the yacht packin' in a hurry. I was experimentin'. Sakes alive, I suppose I won't have a chance to mix into anything like that again. Looks like the Devil an' his works have been cleared from this village. Life will drop back to be just one everlastin' round of cookin'—not that I don't love cook-in'—dishwashing and movies." She lifted the laden tray.

"I forgot to tell you. Colonel Stewart phoned. When I told hini you and Mr. Slade were talkin' very serious in the pat-i-o, he said not to call you, just tell you he'd be here about eight to take you dancing." She stopped at the kitchen door which Cinderella opened for her.

"Better wear the swishy blue taffeta, Cindy, and the two ninety-eight string of beads. Wonderful buy, wasn't

it? You can fool me some of the time but not every time, Miss Clinton." The slam of the door behind her registered indignation.

Two hours later Sarah Ann Parker hovered about the table in the candle-lighted patio.

"You look awful nice, Cindy. 'Tisn't the dress I wanted you to wear, but I guess that fluffy net is more suitable for this warm evening than taffeta. Turquoise blue, isn't it? I'm kinder getting used to the sleeveless top, I like 'em when bare arms are as pretty as yours. The pink rose at the shoulder looks perfect enough to have come right out of the garden. How much shorter the days are getting. Can't hardly see the chaise longy pushed back in the corner." She poured coffee clear as dark amber into a porcelain cup.

"Drink this, child. You haven't eaten enough dinner to keep a bird alive. I've been runnin' on, tellin' you how nice you look to cheer you up. Not feelin' sad and sorry about Hal Harding, are you? He ain't worth it."

"Of course I am sorry about Hal Harding, Sary. I liked him until—lately. It's tragic to think that a man who had everything, education, money, personal charm, an outstanding war record, a fine family behind him, would make such a mess of his life."

"I guess he started wrong. Always had his own way. Couldn't adjust himself to marriage. Never reached emotional maturity, I heard that over the radio. Not about him, but a speaker said that what this country needs most is for folks to grow up, quit throwin' fits of temper or sulkin' if things don't please 'em. Then he went on to say, many of them who think they're men an' women are in the diaper or schoolboy stage mentally and emotionally."

"Miss Parker, I didn't know you ever listened to anything like that."

*'You never can tell when a seed will drop into someone's mind and sprout. Maybe I'm growin' up, too. I wish you'd eat something more, Cindy. But, perhaps you'll have supper where you're goin' dancing."

"I'm not going dancing, Sary." She rose. She could

battle better on her feet. "I've planned to meet friends at the Inn for cards."

"Cinderella Clinton, do you mean you're turnin* down Colonel Stewart?"

"My, but you're a quick thinker, Sary." She picked up a long white coat from a chair. "I'm going in my car—"

"In that old jalopy? Call that a car? What shall I say to Colonel Stewart when he comes?"

"Oh, tell him I had a previous engagement."

"Just like that. I will. I guess 'twon't trouble him none, not with Ally Barclay round to take out. I hope the car breaks down an' leaves you in a wilderness a hundred miles from home, Cinderella Clinton." The screen door banged behind her.

Twenty minutes later, ten of which had been spent trying to revive an expired motor, Cindy regarded the decrepit jalopy beside the road. She would have to abandon it. Better stop at the next house and phone the garage to come and drag it home. Then what? Sary would tell Ken Stewart she had gone to the Inn. He would drive there for her. He had said they would go dancing and he was not one to give up easily.

She didn't want to hear his explanation of why he had come here under another name, had let the annulment go through, she thought as she trudged toward home in high heeled blue slippers that had not been designed for walking a country road. No doubt but he would bring up the subject. She couldn't bear it. She might betray the fact that she loved him. Then he'd feel sorry for her. Why did she have to love a man who didn't want her? Why long to have his arms about her? That last was sheer sentimentality. How did she know she wanted his arms about her? They never had been, had they?

She had made it. Curled up in the chaise in a dusky comer of the patio she glanced at the illuminated dial of her jeweled watch. Not quite eight. She wriggled off her slippers. That walk had finished them—and almost her feet. Dark as Erebus here. The night was so still she could hear every sound. Crickets had deserted the gar-

den. The light breeze was salted with the smell of the sea.

A car stopping. Ken's? Sary would tell him she had gone to the Inn and he would follow. Would he? Why be so sure, with Ally Barclay in the offing? Numberless men had married women years older, and been happy, hadn't they? The front door opening. Closing. He had gone. That ended that. He wouldn't forgive her for side-stepping the date. He wouldn't come back. Now she would steal upstairs. The screen door was opening. She swung her feet up to the chaise. Ken Stewart was silhouetted against the light in the hall.

"I won't go to the Inn, Sary. I saw her car abandoned beside the road. I have a feeling she will trek back to The Castle, if she doesn't I'll go after her. Meanwhile I'll wait here." The door closed.

Now that her eyes were accustomed to the dusk she could see him—he was wearing a dark suit tonight. He stood at the edge of the patio looking out at the garden, whistling softly, "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes."

Miss Clinton, you're in a fix, she told herself. Better come out of hiding boldly and laugh it off-Something dropped into her lap. Something big and black and satin-smooth. Something else with a bushy tail that struggled.

"Darius! Nol No! Drop that—" She leaped to her feet, ran to the man standing as if turned to stone. Clutched his shoulders with both hands.

"Kenl Ken!" She drew a long sobbing breath. He held her close.

"What frightened you, Cindy?"

"Darius! Landed in my lap with a big fat squirrel." She shuddered. "Sary said they are f-fierce—"

"They've gone. In different directions, darling. You frightened the daylights out of them. I've heard that a black cat brings luck. Now I know it. It sent you into my arms to save you from wild beasts. Stay where you are." He drew her back. "You can't go now. This is the third rescue. Remember I warned you. Now I'll keep you." He lifted her chin. Bent his face to hers.

"That kiss has been building up since the first impact of your eyes on mine," he declared unsteadily.

"It—it was so long I—I can believe it," she whispered with an attempt at gaiety. Head against his shoulder she looked up. Voice and eyes were gTave.

"Then why-"

"Come in where I can see you."

There was no sign of Sarah as they went through the hall, but from the floor above came a man's voice singing:

"Once you have found her never let her go."

He laughed.

"Sary, her phonograph plus her sense of the dramatic. I don't need to be reminded not to let you go."

He followed her into the old kitchen, glowing with yellow and copper in the lamplight. Closed the door and shut out the music. She backed against the desk. He crossed his arms on top of the high back of the wing chair. The laughing brilliance of his eyes sent her lashes down.

"You needn't be afraid of me, Cinderella. The next time I kiss you I'll post a notice—I take back that rash promise. I know I can't keep it. When I phoned this afternoon, Sary said that Tom Slade was with you."

"He came to say good-by."

"A grand person. He sent me a memento of the summer."

"Funny thing for him to do, wasn't it?" She seized the chance to steady her throbbing pulses by getting away from the subject of themselves. "You weren't special friends, were you? Would I be out of order if I asked what it was?"

"A red satin slipper. He knew I had the mate. Said he thought they should be together. A statement with which I am in one hundred p>er cent agreement. Ten days from now I am due in Washington to receive a citation—"

"A citation. Wonderful, but aren't you coming back?" "That depends on you. Will you go with me as my wife?"

"Ken, do you want me? Then why—"

"Come here. I can't talk when you're so far away." He caught her in one arm. "We'll have the rest of our lives for explanations, Cindy. There was no woman in my life before you—" he laughed and kissed her swiftly—"except that glacial Mrs. Kenniston Stewart who conducted my business so expertly. I loved you from the moment we met at Ella Crane's. Believe me?"

"Yes. Because I felt the same way, though I didn't know it for a long time after."

"You're so sweet and warm and alive, Cindy. Ready to hear my plan?"

"Ready? I'm on my toes with excitement." "Here goes. We'll be married in the church here— we'll have to allow five days after we get the license-motor to Washington—as you suggested, it's a gorgeous time of year. We might stop on the way and book reservations for the interplanetary trip—" His laugh was buoyant, young— "Then return to The Castle where I'll finish my book, after which we'll settle where my work is to be and begin the real business of living. Does that appeal to you?"

"Sounds ideal. We'll have to consult Sary." "Sarah Ann Parker has assured me that she can have the most luscious wedding cake ready in time." "Then she knows—"

"That I love you? Who doesn't? Do you—now?" "I'm beginning to get the idea. Colonel." "That's progress." He held out his right hand. In the palm sparkled a diamond circlet. "I would like to put this wedding ring on your finger myself," he said gravely. "Do you dislike it too much?"

"Dislike it? Where did you get that strange idea? I love it. I wouldn't want any other."

"That does it. I have another ring for you. Remember I said I brought you a present from Washington? I quote, 'It's big, sensational, choice.' I'll give it to you on the way to the license bureau." "Are we going there—tonight?"

"We haven't too much time. I bribed the license clerk to wait for us until ten. Where's your coat?"

"In the patio. My slippers are there. I kicked them off."

"You don't need them." He broupfht a pair of red satin sHppers from a side table. "I left these when I came in. Sit in the wing chair." Before her on one knee he put them on. He held one satin-shod foot tight in his hand.

"Do they fit? Has the right Prince found your slipper, Cinderella?"

His unsteady voice, his demanding eyes drew her like a magnet. She nodded. Leaned forward. Her lips were soft and warm and clinging as she kissed him.

"A perfect fit. And the right Prince for all the rest of my life, Your Highness."

He swept her to her feet and into his arms. Pressed his face against her hair.

"Cindy, Cindy. Cindy. That's telling me." He cleared his voice.

"Remember, you didn't like that guy Stewart? Think you'll be happy taking his name again, Mrs. Kenniston Stewart?"

"Again? What do you mean by again?" Her tender eyes were alight with laughter as they met his. "Want to know something? Deep in my heart I never gave it up."

Women of all ages are falling under the enchanting spell Emilie Loring weaves in her beautiful novels. Once you have finished one book by her, you will surely want to read them alL

n THE SHINING YEARS 6650 950

D AS LONG AS I LIVE 7963 950

n TODAY IS YOURS 7964 950

D FOREVER AND A DAY 7974 950

n HILLTOPS CLEAR 7976 950

D WE RIDE THE GALE 7997 950

n THE SOLITARY HORSEMAN 8160 950

D I TAKE THIS MAN 8163 950

D MY DEAREST LOVE 8164 950

D GAY COURAGE 8168 950

n FORSAKING ALL OTHERS 8179 950

D FAIR TOMORROW 8567 950