Child Friday (10 page)

II

To Emily, forgotten on the piano stool, came a moment of painful clarity. There was an unconscious intimacy in their motionless figures, a familiarity, each with the other, that cried aloud for recognition. This was the girl who had hurt him so grievously long ago, the girl whose courage had failed when he most needed her. For an instant they remained there, Vanessa searching his face for the scars she had dreaded to find, Dane looking down at her as if, perhaps, he was re-creating for himself the vivid beauty he could no longer see, then he gently disengaged his hands and thrust them in his pockets.

“I had heard your aunt was back at Torcroft,” he said. “Are you staying with her?”

“I arrived late last night,” she replied. “We didn’t know until we came back from abroad that you had inherited Pennyleat. Aunt Gertrude moved so suddenly from place to place that letters never caught up with us, but now she’s gambled away the little money she had and has come home to vegetate.”

“And have you married, Vanessa?” He asked the question calmly, as if it had little importance, but Emily saw the sudden strain in his face and the hint of impatience in Vanessa’s.

“No,” she answered. “But rumor has it in the village that you have. Is it true?”

“Three weeks ago.
”

“So little as that? If
I’
d known
...
if
I’
come down sooner..
.”

They had so plainly forgotten Emily’s presence that she struck a soft chord on the piano to remind them, and Dane turned instantly and held out a hand to her.

“This is my wife, Emily,” he said. “Vanessa
Larne
is an old friend. Her aunt is Mrs. Mortimer who has lately come back to Torcroft.”

Emily rose from the piano stool, conscious that Vanessa
Larne
was at last giving her full attention. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and vividly blue and they took Emily in from head to toe with embarrassing deliberation. Emily at once became conscious of being badly dressed and untidy, the insignificant little typist or governess for whom Vanessa had probably taken her.

“Really?” she said with a slight drawl. “A little young for you, surely, Dane.”

To Emily it was a polite way of saying dowdy, negative, and utterly unsuitable, and she flushed.

“How do you do, Miss
Larne
?” she said colorlessly. “I’ll go and see about tea. Will you come to the library when you’re ready, Dane?”

She went out of the room leaving the door open behind her, and heard Vanessa say:

“Where did you pick her up, darling? Hardly your cup of tea, I should have thought. Your tastes must have undergone a change in the last five years.”

Emily did not catch Dane’s reply but her cheeks were hot as she went to warn Mrs. Pride there would be a guest for tea. A line of the old song she had been singing for Dane returned to mock her.
The time is passed that we have seen
...
Had he been thinking of Vanessa when he had repeated it after her, and had the following lines held a different significance for him than they had for her?
But still I hope the time will come when you and
I
shall be as one
...

“Don’t be a fool, Emily Moon,” she admonished herself aloud. “You know exactly why he married you in the first place. You did it with your eyes open.”

But as she waited in the library for Vanessa and Dane to join her, she remembered how he had wanted to hurry the marriage on when he heard of Mrs. Mortimer’s return and knew that the marriage had been one, not only of
expediency, but a guard against a weakness which he, perhaps, still suspected in himself.

Mrs. Pride brought the tea in herself, a service she seldom performed, and her manner held an unusual warmth as she greeted Vanessa.

“Still as pretty as you ever were, if I may say so,” she said. “My, but you and Mr. Merritt had some rare old times when old Mr. Carey was alive! I’d thought to see you married by now, Miss Vanessa, I will say.”

“I hope you’re not suggesting I’ve been left on the shelf, Pridey,” laughed Vanessa. “I’m glad you’ve stayed on with Mr. Merritt. Who would have thought he would have been the next master here?”

“Who indeed?” said Mrs. Pride meaningly. “You shouldn’t have gone traipsing in those foreign parts for so long.”

“No, perhaps I shouldn’t,” said Vanessa idly, and nodded a smiling dismissal.

Emily poured out tea for them, feeling caught up in a past in which she had no share. Vanessa did not actually ignore her but her talk was full of reminiscences. Every so often she would throw out a word of explanation but her eyes frequently rested on Emily with an amusement that was half pitying. Dane responded less freely. The skin seemed to have tautened over his cheek-bones and he sat well back in the shadows so that the light should not shine on his eyes.

“They did a wonderful job on you, Dane,” Vanessa said, after a long, deliberate scrutiny of his face. “Have you never thought of experimenting? There’s a wonderful new eye operation, I believe, that’s often successful.”

“The co
rn
eal graft?” he said, and added a little grimly: “It’s a matter of waiting for a dead man’s eyes.”

“How grisly!” she said with a shudder.

“The finer arts of surgery are inclined to be grisly,” he retorted dryly. “The human body reduced to terms of spare parts is not edifying.”

“Do you mean to stay in Pennycross long, Miss
Larne
?” asked Emily conversationally, and Vanessa made a small grimace.

“Was I being tactless?” she said indulgently. “Yes, I shall be staying on and off indefinitely. My aunt’s house is the only home I have. I shall amuse myself by coming over and bullying Dane out of his retirement. It’s nonsense to shut himself away in the middle of Dartmoor, don’t you agree?”

Emily did not know the right reply to this and glanced a little helplessly in Dane’s direction, but he answered for her.

“You won’t find life at Pennyleat any more entertaining now than in the old days, Vanessa,” he said. “Emily and I have work to do, and in the holidays there is Alice.”

“Alice? Oh, the little girl. I’d forgotten she went with the house. You’ve become quite a family man, Dane. And did Ben Carey leave you a lot of money?”

Emily considered Vanessa’s question in doubtful taste
but Dane only smiled, as if he recognized and forgave an impertinence which was familiar to him.

“Quite a considerable amount,” he replied with gentle irony. “I remember you always used to speculate o
n
how much the old boy was worth.”

“Because,” she said, pouting charmingly, “it always seemed such a waste when he shut himself up and never spent it, and now you’re following in his footsteps.”

“How can you be sure of that?”

“Only, I suppose, judging by first impressions,” said Vanessa carelessly, but her glance rested for an instant on Emily’s shabby clothes.

“I’ve left the house exact
l
y as I found it. I know the position of the furniture,” Dane said, and Emily made some excuse to leave the room.

“I was referring to your wife,” said Vanessa calmly when she had gone. “Did no one buy her a trousseau?”

He frowned.

“A trousseau? I don’t suppose so. She has no parents and there wasn’t much time.”

“Then you might have remedied the omission yourself, darling. Even if she’s content to be buried here for the rest of her life, I’ve no doubt some pretty things would help the interment. Don’t you make her an allowance?”

He flushed a little at her words and replied impatiently that there had not, as yet, been much time to arrange such matters.

“In other words you never gave it a thought,” laughed Vanessa. “Oh, Dane, darling, how typical of you! I suppose because you can’t see what she wears it doesn’t occur to you that others can.”

“Is it as bad as that?”

“Oh, yes. You should do something about it, darling. Even if you did marry your typist-cum-gove
rn
ess for reasons best known to yourself, you want to put up a front for the village, don’t you?”

The lines about his mouth deepened.

“I don’t very much care for the way in which you allude to Emily,” he said. “She came here in the first place for a job, yes, but that doesn’t put her on the level of a servant.”

“Of course not,” said Vanessa, sounding quite unruffled. “But you’re not in love with her, are you?”

“That,” he said quietly, “I consider an impertinence, even from you.”

She sprang to her feet and began to pace the room with those quick, restless movements he remembered so well.

“You forgave my impertinence once,” she said. “Oh, Dane, why couldn’t you have waited? Why couldn’t you have waited even three weeks longer—or did you know I was coming back? Did you marry so hurriedly as a kind of protection?”

“It was you who wouldn’t wait five years ago,” he countered. “You ran away, because you couldn’t face poverty and a maimed husband.”

“And you are punishing me for that? Yes, I ran away, but I was very young at the time—hardly older than your Emily. I didn’t know—I couldn’t bear to think of your being helpless. You loved beauty so much.”

“But, you see, I’m not helpless,” he said gently. “And as for beauty, well, I should always have remembered you as I used to see you. For me you would never have grown old.”

She stood for a moment looking down at him, and her lashes were wet with an honest emotion.

“I didn’t think of that,” she said softly.

“You didn’t think of a lot of things, my dear,” he replied. “And now it’s too late.”

“No,” she cried with the old passionate repudiation of anything that might stand in her way. “It’s never too late—never!”

Just for a moment his face had the old hunger, then he said a little sadly:

“I’m five years older, Vanessa. My self-adjustment wasn’t easy but I’ve made it. There’s never any going back, you know, even if we wished it. Stay away from us, my dear. We are no longer good for one another and there’s no need to be hurt all over again.”

“Then let me help you with Emily,” she said. “There’s no use in the innocent third being hurt as well, is there?”

“No use at all, and I shall see to it that such a thing will never arise.”

“We’ll both see to it,” she said. “For that reason you’ll let me help?”

The old wheedling warmth he remembered so well was back in her voice and he smiled.

“What do you imagine you can do?” he asked.

“Oh, the things any woman can help another over,” she said. “Clothes, running a house, having fun. The child has no confidence. She’s a mouse.”

“Not such a mouse as you might suppose,” he said with amusement. “By all means take over her wardrobe if it amuses you, Vanessa, but don’t expect me to accompany you on your shopping expeditions. Are your own clothes as decorative as ever?”

She shrugged.

“Mostly a matter of what money will run to these days, but, yes, I think I still have a flair,” she said, and was immediately irritated that he could not see and admire the exquisite ensemble she had planned for this visit.

Emily, returning at that moment, caught the look on her face and immediately understood it. She could not like Vanessa, but she had always been a willing slave to beauty.

“Your suit is a lovely color, Miss
Larne
,” she said shyly. “That dusty blue is perfect for your hair and eyes.”

“Now I can see you, Vanessa,” said Dane with a grin. “Dusty blue—a good description.”

Vanessa turned to Emily, wa
rm
ing at once to expressed admiration.

“You must call me Vanessa,” she said kindly. “You are I are going to have a lot of shopping jaunts together. Dane is going to let me fit you out with a trousseau.”

“Oh!” said Emily unenthusiastically, and wondered what disparaging remarks the girl had already made to Dane. “I hardly need a trousseau for the life I lead here.”

“Dull though your life may be,” said Dane with unexpected sharpness, “Vanessa evidently thinks I’ve neglected you, so you’ll please be guided by her on this important matter of clothes.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean
—
” began Emily, horrified that
she might have been thought to be complaining of her lot, but Dane interrupted, irritated that she should seem to be apologizing to him in front of Vanessa:

“Never make explanations,” he said. “They are apt to lead from bad to worse.”

“Now you’ve embarrassed the poor sweet,” laughed Vanessa, but her eyes plainly said that she considered Emily a fool.

I
I
I

After that it seemed that Vanessa was in and out of the house at all hours of the day. Sometimes she would carry Emily off in the middle of a morning’s work, and if Dane protested, said gaily:

“Nonsense, Dane! She’s your wife now, not your secretary. You must allow her off the chain sometimes.”

Emily would not have been human had she not enjoyed choosing the things which all her life she had been unable to afford, but she did not altogether enjoy Vanessa’s chaperonage. Vanessa and the saleswoman between them turned her into an automaton with no opinions of her own. She was rarely allowed to choose for herself and Vanessa’s frank exposure of figure faults or posture became embarrassing. She was humbly grateful when a saleswoman would murmur something complimentary with reference to her slender waist or small breasts, but Vanessa would impatiently point out another defect until Emily would say despairingly:

“What’s the use of spending so much of Dane’s money when I don’t seem to do anything justice?”

“Nonsense!” Vanessa would counter swiftly. “You mustn’t take my criticisms too seriously. I’m a perfectionist. You have many good points, Emily, if you’d only get a little confidence in yourself. That’s the whole secret of good clothes—to give you confidence. Don’t you feel more like Mrs. Dane Merritt of Pennyleat, now, than little Emily Moon from an employment agency?”

“Ye-es,” said Emily doubtfully, but it was true that away from Vanessa’s critical eye she could walk with an air and feel assured because her clothes were good and her shoes expensive.

Dane evinced little interest in the wardrobe he could not see, but Mrs. Meeker was highly appreciative and even Shorty looked at Emily with jaundiced approval.

“
Wot’s she up to?” he enquired after a little while.

“Who?” asked Emily.

“That Miss
Larne
. Dolling you up a treat when all the time she’s sweet on the governor herself
.”

“That was a long time ago,” she said severely, but Shorty only winked and observed:

“Oh, yers? She’s up to something. Still, and all, I suppose she’s on a safe wicket. ’E can’t see you in all these nobby confections but she gets ’erself into ’is good books for being kind to the little woman. You better watch your step, ma’am.”

“You’ve no business to talk like that, Shorty,” said Emily sharply. “Miss
Larne
, is an old friend of Mr. Merritt’s and he wouldn’t like to think you discuss her in this way. Besides, she’s been very kind to me.”

“Cor love us! You believe everything you ’ear, don’t you?” he said, and went away, sniffing.

But she knew in her heart that he was right, and, as the weeks went by and Vanessa became, part of their daily routine, her own uneasiness grew.

Vanessa showed her up in small insidious ways that might or might not have been deliberate. If they went out in the car she would insist on taking the wheel herself, saying that Dane was used to the way she handled a car. Emily, relegated to the back, was forced to admit that Vanessa drove superbly and very fast, and she would sit listening while Vanessa shouted joyous reminders to Dane of other drives they had shared. Then, catching sight of Emily’s unhappy face in the driving mirror would call out: “Frightened, Emily?”

She would discuss foreign countries, which Emily had never seen, with vividness and wit, bringing that rare smile to Dane’s face, and she invaded Mrs. Pride’s kitchen and cooked delicate foreign dishes which Emily had never heard of.

“You should learn, Emily dear,” she would say gaily. “Dane used to be quite an epicure in the old days. Now that he is blind, his palate is probably even more discerning.”

“Mrs. Pride wouldn’t let me experiment,” said Emily bleakly. “She always made it clear that the running of the house is her province.”

“Don’t you get on with Pridey?” asked Vanessa innocently. “Ah, well, you haven’t much experience in handling servants, have you? Still, it’s a mistake to let them
think
they can run you. That man of Dane’s is sometimes very familiar.”

“Shorty’s manner is unfortunate, but he’s devoted to Dane,” Emily said defensively.

“I daresay, but that’s no reason why you should put up with impertinence,” said Vanessa. “You should make a stand, my dear. He’d respect you more.”

“I’m scarcely in a position to
—
” began Emily without thinking, and stopped when she saw Vanessa’s blue eyes on her, suddenly brilliant and avid.

“Scarcely in a position to give orders in Dane’s house, were you going to say?” she asked softly. “But what a strange confession for a bride.”

Emily said nothing. She saw that Vanessa had a very shrewd suspicion that this marriage was unusual. She had seen her eyes dwell on the clean and obviously untouched second pillow on the big double bed, and watched her delicate eyebrows lift when Emily sometimes appeared ignorant of her husband’s habits. Did she, too,
think
that Dane had hurriedly married his secretary to place a barrier between them? The thought was disturbing, just as was Dane’s reaction when she ran into his room one night when she heard him knock over a chair.

“Are you hurt?” she 'asked anxiously, but he turned on her with such irritation that she shrank back.

“Of course I’m not hurt,” he snapped. “Kindly keep to your own room unless I call. It’s
—h
umiliating
to be observed in undignified behavior when one can’t see oneself.”

“Oh, Dane,” she said compassionately, “you need never feel that with me. I’m here to help.”

“Then don’t make it so plain,” he replied. “Take a leaf out of Vanessa’s book and treat my
infirmit
y
as a joke. It’s easier to bear.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling.

She stood there in the doorway between their two rooms, not knowing what to do. He took off his dressing-gown and felt his way to the bed and she quickly picked up the fallen chair and set it back in position.

“Are you still watching me?” he asked sharply.

“No, I was picking up the chair,” she said.

“Well, then, please shut the door and go to bed,” he said and she ran back to her own room without even bidding him good-night

She sat for
a long time in front of her flowered dressing-table, watching the reflected tears chasing one another down her cheeks. It was foolish to be hurt, she thought foolish to resent the comparison with Vanessa. It was easy for Dane, hearing only Vanessa’s laughter and bright, gay little jests; he did not see her grimace of distaste when he blundered into something, or the impatience in her eyes when, forgetting he could not see, she thrust a newspaper or periodical into his hands. Vanessa might have loved him once, but whatever she wanted of him now, she was safe from being observed, safe in the knowledge that he could only see her as she used to be.

Emily wept, remembering how nearly she had offered herself to him that afternoon in the drawing-room, how nearly, perhaps, he had accepted what she had to give. He had been gentle then and she thought he had need of her.