Brittle Bondage (18 page)

VENETIA changed into blue silk and secured her hair behind each ear with a tiny marcasite bar. From habit her soiled linen was pushed into the basket, her shoes put away. She went back to the bathroom disposed of the wet towels and hung out fresh ones, tidied the tiled shelf.

Thea was in the lighted porch, her gaze apparently on one particular star in the sky, but she twisted to smile at Venetia and momentarily drifted her hand upon the gleaming tresses which reached the blue-clad shoulders.

Fumana brought wine and glasses. A few moments later Blake asked from behind them:

“A drink now, Thea, or will you wait for Paul?”

“I’ll
wait.”

“Venetia?”

“I’ll wait, too.”

The siphon spurted and ice tinkled. Blake came to Thea’s other side, and propped himself against a veranda pillar.

“When are you going to give up hospital work?”

Thea shot
him
a startled glance. “I’m not sure. I have a year’s contract, but one clause provides for termination within a month under set circumstances.”

Venetia began, “But, Thea—”

“Here’s Paul!”

Thea moved precipitately forward, caught her heel and slipped over the edge of the polished step. Blake lunged forward and flung an arm round her.

“You idiot! You didn’t even look to see where you were treading. Have you hurt yourself?”

“No,” she said, sharp with vexation, and sat heavily on the top step.

Venetia slid down beside her and clasped her hand, then raised her eyes to Paul’s smiling face. Before he could speak she said:

“Thea tripped. It’s shaken her.”

Instantly he was on his haunches, looking at Thea as if he and she were alone. His long padded finger and thumb felt gently round her anklebone.

“Is it painful, darling?”

Venetia couldn’t tell if it were Thea trembling or herself. She let go of the cool hand and closed her eyes to shut out Paul’s tender anxiety, the intensity of feeling in the endearment.

“It’s nothing,” Thea answered offhandedly. “Blake saved me from cracking my knee.”

Venetia had managed to pull herself upright and back away. She watched Blake pour a nip of whisky and hand it to Paul, saw Paul’s arm holding Thea while she sipped, and the grin he slanted across at Blake.

“What d’you know! This is a fine thing to happen the day we become engaged!”

The tension was sudden, and as suddenly snapped—by Blake.

“Well! That explains the blind haste to meet you. I’m delighted, Paul.”

“Hadn’t Thea told you?”

“I
...
saved it till you arrived.”

Thea made to draw away from the men, but Blake touched her arm.

“It’s grand news, Thea—just what I wanted for you. You two are going to be very happy.”

“I think so too,” said Venetia, quietly entering the circle. “I’m so very glad, Thea
...
and Paul.”

Thea seemed slightly at a loss, and not conspicuously joyful. “Let’s make ourselves comfortable, Venetia.”

Blake mixed drinks and proposed a toast. Paul’s response was a contented glance across the grass table at Thea.

“How soon are you planning to get married?” Blake wanted to know.

Paul revolved his glass. “I’m anticipating a month’s vacation in five to six weeks—if I can get hold of a good locum. We’ll use it as a honeymoon.”

“Nothing’s settled,” Thea inserted hurriedly.

“Settle everything now,” suggested Blake evenly. “This is your home, so we’ll give the reception here, of course. There’s plenty of space outdoors and we can hire awnings for shade. The hotel will take care of the catering, and I’ll arrange transport—”

“Not so fast, Blake!”

“I believe in getting things done, though I suppose the engagement party should rightly come first,” he conceded. “Can you both make it Friday evening?”

“Blake, I will not have an engagement party!” Thea lessened the heat of her refusal, and qualified it: “It isn’t necessary. Paul and I will come on Friday or Saturday, if you like, but no fuss. Please!”

“My dear girl,” said Blake unmoved, “you’ve never been engaged in your life before. I insist on a party. We’ll invite our neighbours and your closest friends in town and at the hospital. Don’t you agree, Paul?”

Paul replied somewhat doubtfully, “I do believe it pleases a woman to have such things to look back on.”

“Oh no,” said Thea flatly. “Large parties are the dickens to arrange at short notice, and as we may be marrying soon we can’t leave it beyond this week-end. Imagine dining about twenty guests, and only two days for preparations. I couldn’t give any assistance, and it wouldn’t be fair to burden Venetia with such a responsibility.”

There was a brief silence. Venetia became aware of being the focus of the discussion. What could they possibly be expecting of her? She was going away tomorrow—going away from Bondolo for ever. On Friday she might even have booked her passage. This had nothing to do with her, nothing at all.

Then Blake spoke. “In spite of her youth, Venetia’s an extremely capable hostess. With an expert chef and other kitchen help she’ll give you a memorable celebration and love doing it for you.”

This time Thea turned to Venetia. “What’s your opinion, my dear? Wouldn’t it be better to celebrate privately, just we four of the family?”

We four of the family. Venetia’s lips were parted for several seconds before her answer came. It was terribly difficult to say anything in the least hurtful to Thea.

“Paul may be right
...
that a woman looks back with pleasure upon such occasions. Of course you must have a party, Thea.”

Overwhelming opposition forced Thea to give in. She could be off duty at six-thirty, but it was necessary to procure Matron’s permission for a night out. She would have to get away from Bondolo very early on Saturday morning in order to take over the ward at eight.

Venetia
sat still and quiet, sadness and defeat weighting her mind and heart. With the wisdom of despair she told herself that we are called upon to bear only what we can; Thea’s party would defer her escape till Saturday, that was all.

Presently they went in to dinner. She worked up a spurious, subdued gaiety which Thea perceived with relief. The atmosphere lightened, and when, towards nine, Thea and Paul had a nightcap and said good night in the porch, it was to the accompaniment of smiles and badinage.

“Come early on Friday,” said Blake. “You ought to be on hand to welcome the guests.”

“We’ll do our best,” Thea assured him. “If my month’s notice is accepted I may cart along a few things to store in my room.”

“Can I collect them? I shall be in town tomorrow. By the way, will they let you out for an hour mid-morning?”

“Heavens, no! Whatever for?”

“To choose a kist,” he said.

Thea turned to join Paul, who stood at the foot of the steps. “Sweet of you, but next week will do for that,” she said quickly. “And I’ve nothing very big to bring,
thanks
.
My own vehicle will hold them. Good night again, Venetia. Good night, Blake.”

Paul’s car wound first from the drive, and Thea’s two-seater purred after it. Distress tightened her hands over the wheel and kept her gaze fixed on Paul’s tail-light. Speeding between the black billows of trees, she worried a little over spoiling this day for Paul. Not that he would regard it in that light; he was so comprehending, so ready to take his part in her troubles. And he felt that this particular trouble was his, too.

At the byway which led up to his own house he signalled her to stop. She pulled on to the grass behind him and opened her door.

“Switch off and lock up,” he said. “I’ll take you the rest of the way, and my boy will drive this over to the hospital in the morning.”

Thea was more than willing to obey him, to feel his hand under her elbow as they walked forward and he helped her into the seat. When he got in and leaned across to kiss her, some warmth came back into her veins. Her serenity disintegrated, and she held his shoulders, and kissed him again, almost fiercely.

He said: “You’re unhappy, aren’t you? What is it, Thea? What happened before I arrived at Bondolo this evening?”

Slowly she settled back in the corner. “When you first got there you must have thought me mad, or behaving horribly.”

“I thought neither. You were so brilliant-eyed when we parted this afternoon that I instantly connected the upset with Venetia and Blake.”

“There was no upset
...
nothing tangible. I arrived there around five, and within a minute I sensed a sort of frightful suspense in Venetia. My visit caught her slightly off-guard. It was impossible to draw her confidence, Paul.”

“I can believe that. What about Blake?”

“He wasn’t there—didn’t come till it was nearly dark. That’s ominous, too. He takes his lunch and stays away all day, which has never been necessary before at this season. Heaven only knows what’s wrong.”

“It does sound strange, but it isn’t wise to surmise too much. Is that all?”

“No, this is the worst part. The moment she heard his voice Venetia got as far from the door as she could. Blake
gave her a keen look, but they didn’t exchange a word. It was dreadful.”

Thoughtfully Paul smoothed his chin. “They’ve quarrelled. Married people do occasionally have tiffs, Thea.”

“This goes much deeper than that,” she said hollowly. “Blake can’t quarrel with a person he loves. It isn’t in him. He can get violently angry, but at the first sign of hurt he’s finished. I
know
it.” She paused, and pressed back the hair at her temples. “Venetia got out of the room at once, and I might tell you that I didn’t dawdle, either. I felt suffocated.”

“My poor sweet. Haven’t you rather allowed yourself to build up a peculiar situation between them simply because Venetia is young and easily hurt?”

“No, I haven’t,” she said with a shake of the head. “I’ve a ghastly idea what we’ve suspected all along is true. Blake doesn’t love Venetia—and she knows it. Oh, Paul, where will it end?”

“While Venetia keeps silent there’s nothing you can do. Blake’s thirty-four. If he married Venetia because she was alone in a new country and needed taking care of, you may be sure he weighed up all the implications. He’s pledged himself to love her and in time he will.”

“Meanwhile she suffers agonies!”

Paul smiled gently. “It may not be as bad as that
.
You’ve said before that she doesn’t understand him; misunderstanding causes pain, but nothing irreparable.”

Thea took a long, unhappy breath. “If you’d seen her a
l
one, as I did...” She tailed off and started again. “I hadn’t the heart to crow about our engagement. In fact, I intended to fly out and warn you to postpone giving them the news.”

“Sorry, darling.”

Her smile was fleeting, meant only to reassure. It was replaced by an expression of grave exasperation. “And then Blake had to make all that to-do about our party. And to give the final turn to the screw, he mentioned buying me a kist. Honestly, Paul, I’d never have believed he could be so cruel.”

“Not cruel, Thea
...
thoughtless.”

“Blake’s never thoughtless. He knowingly hurt her.” She sighed. “I’m afraid for Venetia. The fact of her caring so much for him is dangerous to both of them. She might take it into her head to leave him.”

Paul reached for her hand. “It isn’t like you to panic, Thea. Venetia isn’t sophisticated, but she has balance and good sense. They’re
married,
remember.”

Not even to Paul could she voice the ghastly suspicion which had finally robbed the day of all excitement and beauty. Being a man, he’d probably refuse to believe it, anyway.

Paul continued: “Venetia won’t do anything drastic before Friday. She won’t wreck your party—you can count on that. You’ll be sleeping there. Some time before you set out next morning you must be alone with her, force her out into the open. And if you’re dissatisfied with results, have a go at Blake.”

“Blake?” she echoed blankly. “I’d get nowhere with him. He and I don’t talk the same language any more.” She met Paul’s eyes. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I can’t thrill with joy about ... us, till this is off my mind.”

He slipped an arm across her back. “Stop worrying, my love. I want their happiness as much as you do. My viewpoint is different, and maybe I have a scrap more faith in men than you have. Give it up till Friday.” He raised his brows at the clock on the dashboard. “Do you realise that you were due back at the hospital ten minutes ago?”

Thea didn’t seem to care. She only knew a sweeping gratitude that Paul was so dependable and solid—and so selflessly in love with her. If anyone could restore her faith in men it was he.

It was later, as she was preparing for bed, that she remember the muscle twitch in Venetia’s throat. She should have told Paul about that.