The Man in Possession (7 page)

As he spoke his face sobered and she wondered what the situation was between him and the oil business. Had he really, as Max had suggested, quarrelled with his father? Of a happy, united family herself, she hoped not. To her way of thinking there were only two reasons left for his leaving the business to come to Norfolk. One was a general dissatisfaction with the oil company, the other a broken love affair.

‘Shall we go in to dinner?
’
he asked, as she set down her empty sherry glass.

‘Yes, of course.
’

She rose, conscious that her previous light-hearted mood had changed. He too seemed to have become rather grave, and she wished they had kept his family and the oil business out of the conversation.

They were shown to a table for two and menus placed before them. It was plain from the way Roger questioned the waiter and consulted her taste that he was well accustomed to going out and about, to dining at the best places. He seemed to know instinctively the right food and wine to choose and quickly shook off his serious mood of a few minutes ago.

‘
Well, tell me a little about yourself,
’
he said as they began the first course.

Reluctant to talk about the double tragedy of David and his father
’
s death she said lamely:
‘
There
’
s not much to tell.
’

He gave her an amused, admonishing look. ‘Come now, I
’
m sure you can do better than th
a
t. You
’
ll have me thinking you have a shady past. You
’
re not a native of Norfolk, anyhow, are you?
’
he prompted.

It was silly to be so reticent about herself. There was no need to talk about David if she did not wish to. And so she told him about her parents and the Kentish fruit farm.

‘
It must be very lovely, especially in the spring,
’
he commented.

‘Oh, it is. It
’
s really beautiful. I love it.
’

‘Then why—
’

It was inevitable, and she could not really understand her reluctance to speak of David.

‘
Why did I come to Norfolk? I met David—
Mr.
Hargreaves
’
son. We became friendly and I came for a holiday. Then we—I decided to stay.
’

‘
You and he—?
’
he queried hesitantly.

‘We became engaged.
’

‘Oh. Oh, I
’
m so
rr
y. I shouldn
’
t have asked. Do forgive me. It must have been—terrible for you.
’

Suddenly she felt her food would choke her, yet at the same time she told herself it was ridiculous to feel this way. She could not understand herself, except that, while not actually still grieving for David, the gap left in her life was greater than she had even realized.

‘Tell me what you think of the wine,
’
Roger said in a quiet voice.

She took a sip and forced a smile.
‘
It
’
s very good.
’

She drank a little more and found she could continue the meal better.

‘
How long since you went home?
’
Roger Leighton asked her, after a minute or two.

‘Christmas.
’

‘Why don
’
t you go again
?
Take a little holiday while the work on the office is being done. I imagine you won
’
t want to go when things get busy.
’

She smiled genuinely at that. ‘How nicely you put it,
’
she told him. ‘But I can
’
t very well go now. You
’
ve only just come.
’

‘The place won
’
t fall apart because you
’
re not here,
’
he told her.

‘I suppose not. Perhaps I could go for a long weekend,
’
she suggested.

‘It
’
s entirely up to you. I just thought you needed a change.
’

‘You
’
re very kind.
’

He looked as though he might deny it, but a waitress came to clear away their empty plates and serve the second course. Julia noticed that Max and his friend had now taken their places at one of the tables. Roger saw them too, and gave Julia a questioning look.

‘
You don
’
t seem to mind.
’

‘
Why should I?
’

He smiled.
‘
That
’
s answer enough. You don
’
t look exactly heartbroken. And I
’
m glad. I wouldn
’
t have said he was your type at all.
’

‘That
’
s interesting,
’
she answered.
‘
What makes you say so—and what sort of man do you think
is
my type?
’

He thought for a moment.
‘
The answer to the first question can be very brief. It
’
s a sort of instinct I have that a man like that could never make you happy. One thing being a director of Melloid has taught me is to judge character from the look of a person. I
’
ve met so many in the course of business.
’

‘
Aren
’
t you ever mistaken?
’

He shook his head.
‘
Very rarely. A person you can trust looks straight at you.
’

But she was not so easily convinced.
‘
But wouldn
’
t that be one of the tricks of a con man—to look you straight in the eye while planning to do you down?
’

‘
Oh yes. But there are other things. A confidence man is generally too smooth, agrees with you too readily, never gets annoyed. A person you can trust has depth.
’

Julia shook her head swiftly.
‘
But you can
’
t tell just by looking at a person whether he has depth or not.
’

‘You can, in a way. There
’
s a certain look in the eyes, in the set of the jaw, in a man
’
s—or woman
’
s—whole expression.
’

Julia had to concede that he could be right. Hadn
’
t she come to some conclusions about Roger himself from across the auction room? It was true she had not been able to put her assessment of him to a real test, but—

‘
That
man,
’
Roger was saying with quiet emphasis, eyeing Max across the room,
‘
is as selfish as hell and as conniving as a fox, if I
’
m any judge.
’

Julia was conscious of a sense of dismay. It was rather frightening to meet a man who judged the character of people so ruthlessly.

‘
I don
’
t see how you can possibly tell,
’
she protested. ‘And personally, I
’
d hate to be judged in such a way.
’

His eyes widened.
‘
But you wouldn
’
t be judged that way. The worst one could say about you would be that you have a mind and a will of your own—and that can
’
t be called a fault.
’

‘
It could be,
’
she argued.

He shook his head.
‘
You tend to fly off the handle, partly because you
’
re so honest. But you also have a—strong sentimental streak in you.
’

She felt her cheeks wa
rm
ing.
‘
You sound like a character-reading act at a—
’
She broke off, suddenly realising how rude she was being. ‘I
’
m sorry.
’

His jaw tightened for a second, then his lips curved into a slight smile. ‘That
’
s all right. I didn
’
t intend to get so personal, but at least you
’
ve confirmed what I said. You tend to fly off the handle.
’

‘I
’
ve already said I
’
m sorry,
’
she flashed out. Then she saw the humorous side and laughed. ‘You
’
re perfectly right, of course.
’

‘There you are. Honest, too. I told you I was an expert.
’

Mischief stirred once more as she looked at him across the table. ‘Of course I only fly off the handle when someone provokes me.
’

‘And I provoked you. You must learn not to let your feelings show so much.
’

‘Why? I was brought up to express my feelings freely. How else can the human race get to know each other? There
’
s far too much surface politeness, people pretending they don
’
t care about things. Why should we be afraid to show our emotions?
’

She could see from his expression that he did not agree with her and at heart, she did not fully mean what she had said. There were times when control was necessary. He said more or less what she expected him to say.

‘Emotions can get out of hand if they
’
re not controlled. Mass hysteria, for example. It isn
’
t wise to bottle up
sorrow
too much, of
course.
I think everyone more or less agrees on that.
’
He gave her an odd look which at that moment there wasn
’
t time to interpret. He went on:
‘
But in conceding the need for free expression, there is another factor to be considered. The effect on other people.
’

Conscience smote her and she was aware of a hurt feeling mixed with resentment that he had knowingly or unknowingly administered a dose of medicine.

‘You mean—I say what I think without considering the feelings of others?
’
she queried bluntly.

His eyes opened wide.
‘
I didn
’
t mean that at all. You
’
re sensitive as well as being sentimental. And before you protest about that, I mean it as a compliment. I should say you
’
re only too well aware of the feelings of others. I was referring to those people who take freedom of expression to extremes and to blazes with the effect on either individuals or the world in general. Rioters, demonstrators, warmongers and murderers, for instance. I
’
m quite sure that in allowing you a certain amount of freedom of expression your parents didn
’
t let you have all your way. A certain amount of self-control is essential. If you
’
re not taught it as a child, life can well be hell when you grow up.
’

He tackled his food for a few minutes as if he felt he had said too much, or as if he had been speaking personally and wished he hadn
’
t. But taking a glance at his face, she would have thought he was a man who had learned to control his feelings very well indeed. Perhaps a little too well.

He looked up suddenly and smiled. ‘We
’
re getting too serious, aren
’
t we? I was supposed to be telling
you what kind of man was your type
.’

‘So you were. Do tell me. I can hardly wait to hear
.’

He took a sip of his wine.
‘
Let me see now. One thing is certain. You
’
d need a man whose mind matched your own—lively and intelligent. But his brain would have to be slightly superior to yours. You wouldn
’
t want it other. And he would have to be firm with you at times.
’