The girl in the blue dress (15 page)

"I'm used to a needle and thread, madam, "
she told Beverley, who refrained from saying that so was she.

"There!" The maid snipped off her thread
neatly.

"No one will see it now. That's the sort of
thing that happens at these mixed affairs, " she added primly, apparently
under the impression that no one in good society ever stood on the hem of
someone else's dress.

Beverley thanked her and ran downstairs again, meaning
to return immediately to the ballroom. But suddenly, through an open doorway, she
had the most beautiful glimpse of a moonlit garden. And, irresistibly attracted,
she stepped outside, for a breath of the cool
night
air.

Before her stretched shadowy, tree-lined paths,
curiously in contrast to the ugly house behind
her. And,
with the haunting lilt of a Viennese waltz drifting out from
the ballroom, it seemed to Beverley that a nostalgic touch of glamour and charm
added magic to the
scene,
Almost
without thinking what she was doing, she began to follow one of the paths at
random, reveling in the delicious freshness of the air after the heat of the ballroom.
It was surprising, she thought, that more couples had not found their way out
here too.

And then she saw that at least one couple had. For at
the end of the path, out of the direct light of the
romantic moon, stood two people clasped in each other's
arms. The
dress of the girl was unmistakable. Beverley had made it herself, and she could
not fail to recognize it as belonging to Sara Wayne.

Well, if Franklin Lowell liked to make love to his fiancée
in the garden, who could blame him? The night was significantly romantic.

Then the man raised his head, so that she saw him quite
clearly for a moment. And it was not Franklin Lowell. It was Geoffrey.

THE shock was so unexpected and so complete that
for a moment Beverley really thought her heart had stopped beating. She felt
unable to move. She could not even have said anything, for no words seemed to
drift into her curiously empty mind. She could only stand there, staring at the
romantic scene which spelled such misery for herself.

Then, suddenly, the fear of being seen in her turn
gripped her, and she drew into the shadows, aware
that she was trembling and felt slightly sick, that the night
was cold
and that the music which drifted to her from the ballroom seemed harsh and out
of tune. Without warning and without preparation there had come upon her the
complete confirmation of all her doubts and fears. For long enough now she had
been chasing shadows, scaring herself with miserable possibilities, comforting
herself with cheerful probabilities.

And now, in one romantic moonlit glimpse of two figures
in a strange garden, she had seen the justification of all her misgivings. People
might, as Toni phrased it, "sort of hug each
other for other reasons than being in love."' But no
two
people withdrew to a secluded comer of a garden and embraced for purely social
or casually friendly
reasons.

Then what, she asked herself, in a sudden fury, did
Geoffrey suppose he was doing? For the first time in her life, blind anger
assailed her. How dared he make love to her, ask her to marry him, press his
ring upon her, suggest that she name a date for their wedding, when all the
time he loved Sara Wayne, and took the first opportunity of embracing
her?

It was monstrous that these two hollow engagements should
go on existing. She would break hers off that very evening, and she would give
her reason for doing so. And if Sara's engagement foundered in the wreckage, it
was no concern of hers.

In that moment, she was so hurt and furious that
she hardly cared who knew the disgraceful truth. She was tired of being
hoodwinked. She was tired of seeing Franklin Lowell hoodwinked, come to that.
It was time some plain truths were told and they all returned to a decent and
truthful set of values.

She found that, while these angry thoughts had been
rushing through her mind, she had apparently been walking along one of the
cross-paths. She was quite alone now. No one was within sight or sound, and she
sat down on a stone bench at the side of the path and buried her face in her
hands. It had been such a lovely evening! and now it was all spoiled. She had
been so happy, with her friends and her beloved, in the innocent knowledge that
she looked lovely and was admired. And now she felt humiliated and rejected and
deceived.

In the immensity of her sorrow and disillusionment she
began to sob quietly, and once she had started
she could not stop. She forgot about Andrew Wayne,
who might well
be wondering why she did not return to the ballroom. She forgot that she was in
a strange garden, at a well-publicized social gathering, and that she would
presently have to make a reasonably good appearance again among strangers. She
thought only that her world had fallen to pieces, and that she must weep for
its utter dissolution.

And so she went on crying until someone came along the
path and paused in astonishment, and Franklin
Lowell's
voice said,
"For heaven's sake, child! What on earth is the matter?"

"Oh, !" She looked up, startled and
dismayed, aware that, though ten minutes ago she had been willing to tell
anyone anything, somehow she must conceal from him his own connection with the
scene which had so distressed her. Or, at least, that she must do so until she
had time for more mature consideration.

"What's the trouble?" He sat down beside
her and, without any hesitation, put his arm round her. It was a strong arm, and
an amazingly comforting arm, and as he drew her slightly against him, she realized
that she was chilled and that the nearness of someone warm and friendly was
soothing.

"Has someone frightened you, upset you?"
he enquired, as she still remained obstinately silent, sobbing occasionally
like a child and pulling distressedly, and destructively, at the lace comer, of
her pretty hand
kerchief.

"Here, don't do that. You'll tear it!" He
put his hand over hers and she felt the comforting clasp of his long, strong
fingers on hers;

"It’s Geoffrey, " she said
comprehensively at last, the explanation punctuated by a sharp catch of her breath.

"Geoffrey? What has he been doing? Have you
had a quarrel?"

"No."

"What, then?"

"He was k-kissing someone
else."

"Oh, I see." She had the feeling that he
suppressed a desire to smile, but his tone was completely grave as he said, "Was
it a very, important sort of kiss?"

"I think so, yes."
   
. ;

"Not just a regrettable but excusable bit of
flirting?

"No." She shook her head. "You, you
remember I told you once that I used to be afraid he was, was fond of someone
else. It was, that girl."

"And it wasn't the, what shall I say? Careless
salute to a nostalgic page of the past?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"I'm not sure that I do, " he confessed.
"Only I
suppose there are all kinds of
kisses, given for all sorts
of reasons. Some look very picturesque but
don't mean
a thing. Perhaps you're
distressing yourself quite unduly.

After all, he has hardly more than put that very
hand some ring on your finger." He lifted her hand and inspected the ring
approvingly. "Why would he want to
be
making serious love to another girl within a few days
of doing
that?"
 
,

"I tell you, he was fond of her before. At
least, I'm nearly sure he was. And she was fond of him."

"Then why didn't he marry her"

"He couldn't. There, there was a good reason
why they couldn't marry."

"Do you mean she was married already?" He
frowned, and it suddenly struck Beverley that, unless she provided a few false
details, so shrewd a man as Franklin would not take long to arrive at the truth
of the matter. And then what sort of trouble would
they all be in?

"Yes, " she said hastily, in her panic.
"It, it was something like that."

"What do you mean? it was something like that?

Either she is married or she isn't."

"Well, then, she is."

"In other words, he is philandering with a
married woman." Franklin Lowell was frowning again. "That's not a
very nice situation, I admit."

"It's not, quite like that, " Beverley
amended hastily, for she was horrified to find she had placed Geoffrey in an
even worse light than he deserved. "Perhaps_ I'm exaggerating. Perhaps
they were, were telling each
other that the
past was definitely past, that they must
really say goodbye to each
other and make a fresh start." As she said the words, she realized that
they
might even fit the true situation as
well as the fictitious one she had created.

But Franklin seemed dissatisfied with this explana
tion.
"I don't know that an embrace
was called for, if that was the case, " he said dryly.

"They might have been overcome by the, the
moonlight and the music and the, the nearness of each other, " she
suggested, so earnestly that her companion grinned suddenly and said, "Look
here, whose side are you on? I thought I was going to have to explain away your
doubts for you. But you're making all the excuses yourself."

She smiled faintly too. But then she drew a long sigh
and exclaimed,
"If one could only know"

"Then you must ask him outright. You're
entitled to do so, if you saw anything which called so loudly for an
explanation."

"I wonder, " she stared almost moodily at
Franklin , "I wonder if what I saw was the end of it all, and
if I shall spoil everything if I ever let him know
that
I know about the past."

"I suppose that could be so, " he
conceded, but doubtfully. "You mean that you want to be generous and give
him the benefit of a rather grave doubt?"

"I , think so. I, feel differently now I've
talked to you about it. It doesn't seem so awful, somehow."

"I'm glad, my dear girl, if I've lessened your
distress in any way. But, " He rubbed his obstinate chin with a meditative
hand, and then obviously thought better of expressing any doubts he might
himself enter
tain.

"Tell me, " he said abruptly, "does
this girl, this woman, belong to the district?"

"Y-yes."

"Then I'll give you a
piece of advice. If Revian has
any
degree of success with his exhibition, get him
away from here. I'm enough of a realist to know that thousands of men
have wonderfully happy marriages,
even if they start by thinking there's
a broken romance in the background. But it's asking for trouble to live
anywhere near the pieces."

Beverley laughed faintly and bit her lip. "It
might be difficult to arrange."

"So what?" he shrugged.
"Difficulties can usually be overcome. See what the result of his
exhibition is."

"You're still willing to, to arrange that, even
after what I've told you?" she said anxiously, for it struck
her that she might well, in her distress, have
blurted out
much that was damaging to Geoffrey's prospects.

"My dear child!" Franklin Lowell got up
and pulled
her gently to her feet.
"Revian's social behaviour is no
concern of mine whatever. What
does concern me is your happiness. Now come along back to the house, and I'll
find some side door for you, where you can slip in unnoticed and go upstairs
and wash away those tearstains and generally make yourself presentable and gay
once more."

"Oh, you're so kind!" exclaimed Beverley.
"I don't know what I would have done without you."

"Probably have arrived at the same conclusions
on
your own, " he told her, with
cynical kindliness. "But
don't look so enchantingly grateful and
touching, or I shall probably kiss you in your turn. And then I suppose Sara
would somehow come on the scene and draw the
wrong
conclusions, and the comedy of errors would
be complete."

For a wild moment, she felt tempted to say that
nothing could more truly represent poetic justice.
But she suppressed the impulse and went with him towards
the house.

He was as good as his word, and somehow found a deserted
side passage into the house. So that she was able to do just what he had
suggested, slip upstairs
unnoticed and
remove all traces of the distressing tears she had shed.

It was a rather grave Beverley who came downstairs for
the second time, but no one could have guessed from her general demeanour that
less than half an hour ago she had been crying her heart out in the
garden.

There are few influences on our behaviour which are
stronger than the compulsion to keep up appearances in public. And throughout
the rest of that evening Beverley contrived to give an impression of gaiety and
lightheartedness which half surprised herself.