I'll Never Marry! (13 page)

“
Serious! I should say so. Come over as soon as you can. Meanwhile, many happy returns—and goodbye. I
’
m ringing off now before you change your mind.
”
And putting her words into action, she clicked up the receiver.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Perhaps it s
howed a lack of moral courage on Catherine
’
s part, but she could not bring herself to broadcast the news that she was going to the dance in one of Cecily Playdle
’
s frocks.

She would have told Matron glad
l
y, had she been able to find another chance of speaking to her alone, and the children, too, might have known, for all she cared. But she could not face having her pleasure damped by one of Hilda
’
s cutting remarks, or even by her contemptuous silence.

So she went off, feeling rather a hypocrite, in her
navy
blue coat and Sunday dress of checked silk, and thankful that no comments were made, beyond a chorus of praise from the children, who declared loyally that she looked
“
lovely,
”
and who insisted that she must tell them
“
every single thing
”
about the dance tomorrow morning.

Before she reached the gate, however, a car slid up and drew to a standstill, and in the dusk she saw Andrew
’
s tall figure emerge. Bare-headed, as usual, he was wearing a dinner-jacket; and she thought, with a queer little throb, that she had never seen him looking more attractive.

“
You shouldn
’
t have bothered to come for me,
”
she exclaimed with a breathlessness which was not entirely due to having hurried down the path.

“
Quite the contrary,
”
he returned twinkling.
“
You should have taken it for granted that I would fetch you.
”
And then he added-smiling, as he opened the door for her:
“
I
often think of that absurd mistake we made at the station. In retrospect, it
’
s really very amusing.
”

“
It didn
’
t seem so at the time,
”
Catherine declared, settling herself comfortably
in the seat next him.
“
I felt awful.
”

He laughed.
“
So did I—when I realized, after my silly joke about your fellow-passenger, that it was Beryl who had tried to bilk the railway company. She was just as much of a stranger to me as you were—I met both of you for the first time that day—and there was I, into it with both feet.
”

“
She wouldn
’
t realize that you knew it was she,
”
Catherine told him comfortingly.
“
I
’
m the one she was angry with—for of course we recognized each other immediately.
”

“
Not a very
good start to a friendship.
”
He let off the brake and the car began to move.
“
Of course, I never can understand feminine notions of honesty. They
’
ll cheerfully defraud a railway company, if they think they can do so undetected. Yet the idea of taking a ha
’
penny out of a fellow-tra
v
eller
’
s pocket would shock them to the core.
”

Catherine gave an odd little laugh.
“
I suppose I
’
m not acting altogether honestly in going to this dance in borrowed plumes.
”

He raised his eyebrows.
“
I wasn
’
t aware that you were. However, if you
’
re worrying about borrowing a dress from Cecily—don
’
t. She and her friends seem to be for ever swapping clothes: all girls together, you know!
”
And then he gave a great laugh.
“
But can you imagine me popping over to your friend Geoffrey Barbin to borrow the sweetly pretty tie I
’
d seen him wearing once or twice, because it went just
perfectly
with my dinky new suit?
”

She echoed his laughter.
“
I can
’
t,
”
she confessed; then added, on an impulse:
“
I don
’
t know why you call Ge
o
ffrey
my
friend.
”

He shrugged his shoulders, his eyes on the bumpy drive to the Manor.
“
You seem to act towards him in a delightfully benevolent manner,
”
he said lightly.
“
No nice girls ever come and paint any of
my
sheds, by way of giving me a pleasant surprise.
”

“
That was the children
’
s idea,
”
she told him, flushing.
“
He
’
s been so good to us all at the Home.
”

He made no comment on this beyond a noncommittal,
“
H
’
mph,
”
and indeed, on that rough track, had a good excuse for silence; for,
skillful
driver as he was, it was difficult in the poor light, to avoid ruts and stones.

A few moments, however, brought them to the massive oak door of the farmhouse, and out flew Cecily t
o
meet them, distractingly pretty in rose
-
pink tulle.

“
Isn
’
t this fun!
”
she exclaimed.
“
Many happy returns again, Catherine!
”

Andrew, covering the radiator of the car with a rug, looked up and chuckled.
“
I
’
m more privileged than you are, Cecily,
”
he declared,
“
I
’
ve been given formal permission, by a young person of the name of Maureen, to call our guest,
‘
Miss Cat
’
.
”

“
I shan
’
t call her
‘
Miss
Anything
!
’
”
Cecily
retorted, seizing Catherine
’
s hand, and hurrying her into the house; and then called back, over her shoulder:
“
Look after Nick, Andy, there
’
s a dear. We won
’
t be longer than we can help.
”

The dainty, chintz-hung bedroom into which Cecily took Catherine was a clear reflection of its owner
’
s personality, and the modest luxury which pervaded it formed a pleasant contrast with the somewhat ascetic atmosphere of Catherine
’
s own room at Garsford House. There was nothing grand or pretentious about it, nor was there any trace of originality in pictures or furnishing; it was just delightfully cosy and feminine.

Two dresses were spread out on the divan-bed, together with a long silk slip, some sheer
stockings,
and a pair of gold shoes. One frock was a fluffy affair of petunia chiffon, the other was of dull blue and gold lame, beautifully cut; and a brief trial
before the gilt-framed mirror, ended unanimously in favor of the second.

Not only did the soft hints harmonize with her hair and eyes, but the long, sweeping line gave her an air of youthful dignity which was altogether charming. Seeing herself standing there, erect and slender, her grey eyes bright, her lips parted in faint wonderment at the image which confronted her, she knew, for the first time that she had the makings, at least, of an attractive woman.

Then, abruptly, she woke from her day-dreaming.
“
But, Cecily, this must be your very best dress,
”
she exclaimed in distress.
“
It
’
s perfectly new.
”

“
Nonsense! You look grand, and that
’
s all that matters.
”
Cecily was beaming.
“
Sit down and pat your shoes on; and while you
’
re doing that, I
’
ll get a comb and curl up the ends of your hair. It
’
s worth the trouble, because your hair is really very pretty.
”
The titivating that followed took longer than Catherine would have imagined possible, but Cecily seemed to consider that the whole affair of dressing had been carried out in record time. At any rate they went downstairs again just before nine, to find their escorts waiting without visible signs of impatience, so Catherine could
o
nly conclude
that she herself was apt to give far less time than the average woman to the matter of personal ador
n
ment.

Cecily
’
s friend, Nick, proved to be a pleasant young naval officer, who quite obviously found his hostess adorable. He was ready, however, in true sailor fashion, to be friendly with everyone, and made, Catherine thought—forgetting that she, not he was the last-comer—an ideal fourth to the party.

Her spirits were high, as they started off in the car. This was certainly the
m
ost exciting birthday she had had since nursery days, and she wished impetuously that Marion could see her, well-dressed, happy, and confident. Then, as quickly, she thrust her sister out of her mind. It was Marion
’
s overwhelming personality which had so often spoiled things for her in the past. Maybe even to think of her now would bring bad luck.

It was not difficult to forget Marion. A few moments after arrival at the hall, crowded—though not uncomfortably so—with dancers, she was in Andrew
’
s arms; and her only worries now were whether Andrew would be aware of the ridiculous thumping of her heart, and whether, from sheer nervousness, she would make a fool of herself by tripping and stumbling.

Both anxieties were quickly dissipated. Andrew
’
s guidance was so definite, his movements so assured, that at once they were dancing like one person, and the first thrill of being held by him gave way to a calmer feeling—that of serene and flawless happiness.

He did riot talk when he was dancing—except to exchange cheerful greetings with the numerous friends who hailed him—and this, too, pleased Catherine. Words,
s
he felt, w
o
uld destroy the spell, and drag her from her dream.

When they sat out together, however, he had plenty to say. He wanted to know about her home and her people, and why she had taken up her present work; and though she was far too shy to speak
of
her gradual belief that she was the kind of girl who would never marry, she succeeded in showing him the appeal which the thought of mothering these homeless, parent
l
ess children, had made to her.

“
It must be rewarding work, certainly.
”
His eyes were unusually thoughtful as they
rested on her.
“
The way young Ruth spoke of you, when she came over to see me this morning about the nutting party, was just the way an ordinarily affectionate child would speak of her mother. There was nothing sentimental in her attitude—in fact, she seemed rather to take you for granted.
”
He hesitated.
“
I don
’
t know quite how to express it, but her anxiety over your birthday had nothing in common with:
‘
Our teacher is kind and nice, and we must try to please her
’
.
”

“
Naturally,
”
Catherine put in quickly.
“
We
’
re foster-mothers, not teachers. Our business is with the children
’
s home-life, not with the school—except in so far as all good parents are interested in their youngers
’
education.
”

“
Exactly.
You belong to them and they belong to you—and that they shouldn
’
t do something about their mother
’
s birthday is unthinkable. But what will they feel when you leave them? I mean—you
’
ll be getting married one
of these days—
”

“
Not in the least likely.
”
All Catherine
’
s shyness, all her gaucheness returned with a rush.
“
I look
upon my job as a permanent one.
”

“
That
’
s as may be.
”
He gave her a cigarette and then lit one for himself.
“
Lots of girls talk that way about marriage. Yet most of them end by tripping to the altar.
”
And then he went on slowly, his mind reverting, it seemed, to the children:
“
I didn
’
t even have a foster-mother. All I had, when our parents were killed, was an aunt and uncle who adored Cecily, but thought me quite detestable.
”
He kicked moodily at nothing.
“
I probably was. A boy of ten, dazed and sullen through the collapse of his little world is a very different proposition from an angelic, year-old baby, all fair curls and blue eyes and dimples.
”

“
I had no idea you
’
d lost both your parents in childhood.
”
Her voice was startled.

“
They died together in a car crash. My aunt and uncle took Cecily and brought her up, and I was sent to boarding school.
”
He gave a short laugh.
“
School was all right, but the holidays weren
’
t so good. There was no ill-treatment. I was just made to feel that I was horribly in the way. I was Andrew —never
‘
Andy
’
—to my face, and
‘
that boy
’
behind my back.
”

“
But the Manor was
your
house, surely, even though you were a minor. I mean, your aunt and uncle were, in a sense, your guests.
”

“
Oh, the house was let. I didn
’
t take it over until I was twenty-one, and had finished my training
at an agricultural college.
”
He spoke jerkily, as though the whole subject was distasteful.
“
If it hadn
’
t been for Pogson, my present bailiff, it would have been a lonely furrow to plough. Cecily didn
’
t join me until she was eighteen, so I had several years in splendid solitude.
”

The band struck up again, and immediately he got to his feet and led her to the dance floor.
“
You oughtn
’
t to let me bore you with my morbid reminiscences,
”
he said, smiling down at her, and holding her, for a moment, very close to him.
“
You hear enough of that sort of thing, no doubt
,
when you
’
re on duty. Let
’
s dance.
”
And he swung her into the heady rhythm of the rumba.

Now, in her thoughts of him, as they moved together like one person, there was a streak of passionate tenderness. It seemed a strange emotion to cherish towards this virile man, blessed with good looks, an ample income and, apparently, a host of friends. But she was recalling that odd contradiction in his character—that baffling alternation between sweetness and harshness and was seeing him, in a moment of revelation, as a small, bewildered, sulky boy, helpless under the blow which fate had dealt him, and meeting it with a defiance born of fear and misery.

“
What are you thinking of?
”
he asked presently, with a suddenness that startled her.

“
I was wishing I had known you as a small boy,
”
she answered candidly.
“
I might have been able to help you.
”

He smiled down at her.
“
Y
o
u would have been—let me see—three years old! A bit young to offer the good advice I undoubtedly needed
—or
the mothering.
”

She too smiled.
“
I was thinking of myself at my present age.
”

“
Oh, that wouldn
’
t do. If you had been twenty-eight when I was seven, you would be—oh, dear, my arithmetic
’
s giving out with all these calculations—forty-six. I would much rather you were twenty-eight, Miss Cat.
”

She longed to ask demurely,
“
Why?
”
but her courage deserted her, and instead she observed mildly:
“
That
’
s a ridiculous name. I don
’
t know why I put up with it.
”

“
It
’
s the
‘
Miss
’
that makes it absurd,
”
he told her.
“
Can I call you just
“
Cat.
”

“
No one has ever called me that,
”
she said;
“
At home I
’
m
‘
Kit
’
as often as not.
”

“
That cuts no ice with me,
”
he assured her.
“
I like
using
special names for—for special people.
”
The lights went down just then, and in the dimness she felt, or thought she felt, his lips touch her hair. Had he really kissed her? Could it be true? She dared not lift her eyes to look at him, and the next instant, as the lights went up, the spell was broken, for he exclaimed, with a complete change of tone:
“
Why, there
’
s Beryl walking in with the Burlens. She must be staying with them. Alldyke is with them too. I had no idea they were coming.
”

As can well be imagined, Catherine
’
s heart sank, as her glance went to the group at the door. Beryl, she knew, would not, without a struggle, allow any other girl to monopolize Andrew, whether she had a right to his company or not. She thought wretchedly:
“
Our two parties will get mixed up. Instead of being left in peace with Andrew I shall be landed with that tiresome Roland.
”

And all too soon these gloomy prognostications proved correct.

Beryl, floating by in Will Burlen
’
s arms—a striking figure in a period dress of crimson brocade
—
called out with slightly exaggerated vivacity:
“
Hello, Andy! How marvellous that you
’
re here. Shall we join forces? Eight is far more fun than four.
”

“
Let
’
s talk about that at supper,
”
was Andrew
’
s swift response.
“
The waiters here all know us. They
’
re sure to put us together.
”

Beryl pouted—not too prettily, Catherine thought.

“
Supper
’
s
hours
off,
”
she declared.
“
However, daddy knows best. See you later, Sobersides.
”

Andrew laughed, and Catherine thought
w
ith a pang:
“
That kiss—if you could call it a kiss—meant absolutely nothing. Beryl
’
s on far more familiar terms with him than I shall ever be. It
’
s staying in the house with him that does it—going about with him over the farm, meeting at meals, playing cards, or
dancing
to the gramophone with him, in the evening.
”

And then, her heart sinking, she told herself that Beryl
’
s opportunities for meeting Andrew—always looking at her best—did not make up the whole story. From every point of view, the dice were loaded in her favor. How could a mousy-brunette with very ordinary gray eyes hold her own with a
striking
brunette whose white skin was as dazzling in its own way as her jet-black hair and dark, sidelong glance? How could shyness compete with gay self-confidence?