Sister of the Housemaster (20 page)

“
With Ingrid? What nonsense!
”

“
But is it nonsense? He was handling her with such care, such tenderness
—
he is never like that with me.
”

“
Oh Pamela, how stupid you are. He felt guilty because he thought he was the cause of the upset. He had challenged her to go in the canoes, and I don
’
t suppose he knew how inefficient she was with them.
”

“
She looked quite capable of handling a canoe to me.
”

“
Well, she obviously wasn
’
t, and Patrick felt guilty. As for anything else, it
’
s quite absurd. Why, I don
’
t think they even like each other
—
I
’
ve seen them-looking as grim and annoyed as possible with each other. You must have done, too.
”

“
I admit I had an idea, at one time, that they avoided each other. But I thought I would mention it to you.
”

What Pamela had said rankled in Sylvia
’
s mind. She had set her mind on Patrick
’
s marrying Pamela and had no desire to have Ingrid linked to her by ties even closer than those that existed already. So she chose the first opportunity to speak to Ingrid about Patrick, and tell her, in the
strictest confidence, as they sat sewing together in the garden, that she fully expected to hear of his engagement during the Festival.

“
Is that so?
”
asked Ingrid. She would not show by a single movement, a single glance, what she felt, but it was as if the bottom had dropped out of her world. A feeling of shock deprived her of all power over her body, so that she felt t
h
at, if she continued to sew, her hands would tremble, and if she rose from her chair, her legs would not carry her. So she dropped her hands into her lap, and looked across at Sylvia without expression.

Sylvia thought: Of course Pamela was quite wrong. It doesn
’
t mean a thing to Ingrid.

“
Yes,
”
she said,
“
I have been hoping for it for a long time; but you know, from your, own experience, that people do not hurry these things.
”

“
From my own experience?
”
asked Ingrid.
“
Well, you and Laurence haven
’
t hurried, have you
?
and it was so obvious that he fell in love with you at first sight.
”

Ingrid did not answer. She found cou
rage to start her sewing again.

“
How nice it would be,
”
went on Sylvia,
“
if we had two engagements in the same week. That would be something to celebrate. When are you going to make up your mind, Ingrid?
”

“
There is no hurry. We have the rest of our lives before us. I want to do some hospital work first.
”

“
Of course. I can sympathize with that desire, but you can be engaged to Laurence and still do your work.
”

“
Has Laurence enlisted you as an ally?
”
asked Ingrid, amused.
“
You are in a hurry to marry me off.
”

“
Not at all; but seeing Pamela so happy makes
m
e want other people to be happy, too.
”

Ingrid was not convinced. She felt that there must be some motive behind Sylvia
’
s attempt to push her into an engagement, but she did not guess at the real motive, since it did not occur to her to doubt the news about Pamela and Patrick
.
That particular piece of news gave her several bad h
ours i
n the time before the Festival, chiefly at night when she was helpless in her bed, torn between her longing for Patrick, and her pride which held her in contempt, for longing for a man who had no use for her. It was one thing to determine that she would not be in love with him, and quite another to carry it out: one thing to determine to forget him, to turn her back on him, and a different thing to tear his picture from her mind.

The weather stayed fine for the week of the Festival; not always warm, for sometimes a cold wind blew, and with occasional showers, but never enough to ruin the Festival arrangements. A famous regiment lent its director of music to conduct the school band in a concert, the orchestra would play in the nave, and both would appear at the garden party. Celebrated soloists would give recitals, and the Shakespeare play would have five performances in the Chapter
-
House, All the gaps were filled in by social occasions, and Ingrid was now at the Deanery for the Dean
’
s party to the celebrities, now at the Headmaster
’
s house for luncheon, or herself giving a party on Arnold
’
s behalf for visitors to meet school dignitaries. Patrick, popular as ever, was always in demand, scattering the famous charm prodigally, so that sometimes Ingrid felt all the old irritation and annoyance with him.

For the garden party, the sun shone strongly. The grass of the quadrangle was no longer sacrosanct. Marquees had been put up, and little tables covered the smooth green lawn
.
The band on one side, the orchestra on the other, backed by the old grey walls of the school, took it in turn to supply backgrou
nd music. Cathedral dignitaries
, in their gorgeous robes, paced the lawn sedately, pausing to converse with people they would forget immediately afterwards. Masters of the school, in their gowns., were waylaid by parents anxious to talk of their sons. Laurence, escaping
f
rom a garrulous mother, said to Ingrid;

“
Come and have a cup of tea. Masses of parents want to talk to me, and I haven
’
t been Housemaster of Paul
’
s long enough to know a
l
l the
b
oys.
C
ome to my rescue
—
look, there
’
s a table.
”

They found an empty table on the fringe of the crowd, and Ingrid would have been content to watch the scene, but Laurence could not be kept long from his usual theme. Over their tea, while the band played a cheerful accompaniment, he
once
more began his; entreaties, using the gaiety and color of this present occasion as a further temptation, as a prop to support his argument that life here, with him, would be full of interest, Ingrid had heard it often before, but each time it had power to distress her. She did not love him
...
But he, he would insist, had love enough for two. It would be better to wait, she would say, but he felt that he could wait no longer. And it would end, as always, with his impassioned plea to her to be engaged to
him
.

Somebody wished to speak to Laurence and he had to go away. Ingrid sat thoughtfully where he left her, looking out over the crowded lawn of the quadrangle. Scarlet robes, fur-bordered gowns, the pretty summer fashions of the women, passed in a gay pageant. Arnold, looking hand-some and distinguished, but a little careworn, went by in earnest conversation with a parent. If she lived here, she would be in daily contact with
Arnold again
. The Headmaster, who, for all his
love of the school, was more of a polished man of the world than the accepted idea of a headmaster, ensured a constant series of visits from celebrities, for the good of his boys. Life would never be dull. Ingrid knew that this day was not representative; that the days when the quadrangle lay empty and peaceful amid the old stone b
uilding
really represented the life of the school, but even then it was never dull. The battered bicycles of the boys would take over from the marquees, the sober school dress be substituted for the robes of pomp and the frivolity of fashion, the school bell and the clatter of feet take the place of the music and the chatter, but still it would be a place where life throbbed continuously. Here, there would always be many interests outside marriage.

“
Why so sad?
”
a voice asked her, and she looked up to see Patrick standing beside her table.
“
May I join you?
”
He took
“
Laurence
’
s chair.
“
Are you tired by your many exertions?
”

“
No,
”
she said.
“
I am not at all tired.
”

“
Then why did you look forlorn, sitting here alone?
”

“
I had only been alone for a moment. Laurence was with me.
”

“
You haven
’
t quarrelled with Laurence?
”

His voice was light and teasing. Laughter lurked in his grey eyes. She felt that he was laughing at her, and it was not the first time, during this Festival Week, that she had felt that.

It annoyed her, since she did not see the joke.

“
I never quarrel with Laurence,
”
she said.
“
We are always on the best of terms.
”

“
Then you were sad because he left you
...
Don
’
t you think this is a gay scene, Ingrid? It asks to be painted, with the Cathedral behind, and the
s
pire piercing the sky, and the marquees and many colo
u
rs
...
Who could paint it, do you think?
”

She allowed herself to be drawn into conversation, but only half her mind was given to it, and Patrick was not slow to observe it.

“
You
are very distrait,
”
he said.
“
You are thinking
that I am a nuisance. Shall I go away
?”

“
I was not thinking that at all,
”
said Ingrid.

“
But you were thinking of something very seriously.
”

“
Yes,
”
she said quietly.

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment or two.

“
Problems, Ingrid?
”
he asked, and
his
voice was gentle.

“
Yes,
”
she said again.

“
Could I help you with them?
”
he
a
sked.
“
I would be very happy to, if I could.
”

“
No. I
’
m afraid you couldn
’
t. In fact, Patrick, you are probably the last person in the world who
cou
ld help me.
”

She was not looking at him, or she could not have failed to see the changes of his expression, from solicitude to sudden hurt, and from that to complete withdrawal, He rose to
his
feet at once.

“
I am amazed at myself,
”
he said drily,
“
for laying myself open so consistently to your snubs, I will try not to do it again, Ingrid.
”

He turned away from her and strode across the grass towards Arnold
’
s House, before Ingrid, dismayed, could explain that she had
h
ad
no
intention of snubbing him. She had still been thinking in ter
m
s of her problems, and it was true that she could hardly confide those to Patrick. But her words had been unfortunate, and she was aware that they were once more dolefully at cross purposes.

CHAPTER TEN

ON the Saturday of the Festival Week, a supper party was to be held at one of the big hotels in the town, following on the final presentation of the school play, for the chief organizers of the Festival, the chief workers, and many officials of the school. Patrick would be present as Arnold
’
s guest, and there would be dancing until midnight. The Sunday following would end the Festival with a service in the Cathedral.

For the supper party, Ingrid wore the white dress that Arnold had bought for her earlier in the year. Laurence sent her flowers to wear and appointed himself her partner for the evening. He sat with her at supper, stayed at her side in all the polite exchanges of conversation with others, and, when the dancing began, claimed her for most of the dances. His devotion was patent to everybody; as far as Laurence was concerned, there was only one person in the room who mattered; and for that he could hardly be blamed, for Ingrid was looking her best in the beautiful white dr
ess, with color in her cheek
s and her eyes sparking.

She had danced with Lauren
c
e several times before he persuaded her to go out on to the
veranda
for fresh air. Fairy lights shed a glow of varied colo
u
rs, but shrubs in urns threw large patches of shadow across the colored light, and it was not easy to see if the
veranda
was occupied or not. Laurence thought it was empty, and he drew Ingrid into a close and warm embrace, begging her softly to allow him this much, whispering love words to her, his cheek against her hair. For a few moments, Ingrid stayed where she was, and just when she was about to extricate herself, s
h
e became aware of a movement further along the
ve
ran
da
. Both she and Laurence turned, to find Patrick standing there.

“
I beg your pardon,
”
said Patrick stiffly, and walked past them and through the long window, back into the dance room.

“I
didn
’
t see anybody there
”
said Ingrid, dismayed.

“
Nor did I, but what does it matter?
”
Laurence would have taken her into his arms once more, but Ingrid drew away, and a little later they too went back to the music and the dancing.

It was then that Patrick approached her and
a
sked her to dance with him. She complied naturally, but as soon as she began to da
nce
, she realized that something was wrong. He was angry, and although she could not tell why, her heart began to beat uncomfortably fast.

“
C
ome into the garden,
”
he said after a while.

“
I would rather stay here,
”
said Ingrid.

His fingers about her wrist were like iron, and he led her on to the
veranda
, and from there, down the steps into the garden. In the shadow of a spreading tree, he stopped.

“
How dare you drag me out here against my will?
”
asked Ingrid indignantly.

“
I want to talk to you,
”
he said grimly,

“
That i
s
no reason for pulling me out here in such a boorish fashion. You can talk to me at other times, without interrupting my pleasure in the
dan
ce.
”

“
In the dance? It seemed to me that you were getting your pleasure otherwise than in dancing.
”

“
That is nothing to do with you,
”
said Ingrid heatedly.

“
It has a good deal to do with me.
”

“
It is entirely my business. Say w
h
at you have to say quickly, and I can go back to the dancing
.”

“
To Laurence?
”

“
Yes, if you like, to Laurence.”

“
Poor devil.
”

“
He doesn
’
t need your pity
,”
said Ingrid.
“
I can
’
t understand your extraordinary behavior, Patrick, and I am going back now.
”

She turned swiftly to walk away from him, but he was quick, too, and had her wrist in a vice-like grip.

“
I haven
’
t said what I brought you here to say. It concerns Laurence. Why are you letting him live in a fool
’
s paradise?
”

“
I don
’
t understand you; and whatever I do, or Laurence does, is no concern of yours.
”

“
It is my concern. Why do you encourage him? Have you allowed him to believe that you love him?
”

“
That is my business.
”

“
You surely don
’
t
i
ntend to marry him?
”

“
That, also is my business. Your rudeness is quite extraordinary, Patrick. Do I charge in and question you about your private affairs?
”

“
It is my business, too, Ingrid. You wonder why I call him poor devil; yet you encourage him, as you did on the
veranda
tonight, when you are in love with another man.
”

At that, she was completely immobile for a moment, with the shock of his words. Then she tried once more to escape from him, but her wrist was secure in
his
grip.

“
You can
’
t run away,
”
he said.

“
Let me go.
”

“
I will not. I want to get this straight. Can you deny, Ingrid, that you love somebody else?
”

“
If it was the slightest concern of yours, I might submit to this cross-examination. But nothing I do is any concern of you
rs
. Yo
u
h
a
ve no
r
ight to speak to me in this way, and I shall be obliged if you will let me go.
”

“
It is my concern, and I have a right to speak to you like this, whe
n I take into account the fact t
hat you are in love with me.
”

There was silence in the deep shadow of the oak tree. A palpitating silence, a silence fraught
w
ith so many emotions that it seemed to Ingrid
th
at if she
w
aited long enough, she could sort
t
hem all out, and know what was in Patrick
’
s mind as well as her own; but she could not wait so long, because it seemed to her imperative to deny his assertion at once. Suddenly, she remembered the strange gaiety that had been in his manner for some time, the impression she had had that he was laughing at her; she heard too, the triumph in
his
voice as he stated that she was in love with him, and a cold certainty came over her that he was elated over yet another conquest.

“
Well?
”
asked Patrick.
“
Can you deny it?
”
And the triumph was unmistakably there in his voice.

“
It is so ridic
u
lous,
”
said Ingrid,
“
that I do not bother to deny it.
”

“
Ingrid, Ingrid, what is the matter with you? Have I to come out with time and place and incident, to explain to you how I know you love me?
”

“
I would certainly like to hear what could possibly lead, you to believe that such a fantastic thing was true.
”

“
Then you shall have it. And then deny it, if you can. Do you remember the picnic, Ingrid, and the canoe race on the Long Pond?
”

She did not answer, because she was suddenly breathless with a new suspense. He wen
t
on:

“
It is true that when I brought you out of the water, you were unconscious. It is true that when I called for help, Laurence came running, and when he arrived you were unconscious. But it took some time for
him
to hear, and then to reach me, and in that time you woke up, Ingrid, and you talked to me.
”

She was silent, knowing with shame and embarrassment what was coming.

“
Do you want to know what you talked about, Ingrid
?
”

“
No
,”
said Ingrid, in a low voice.

“
But you shall. One might have thought that you would have talked to Laurence; but you talked about me, Ingrid.
”

“
It doesn
’
t seem possible, but tell me what I said.
”

“
Y
ou opened your eye
s
, and at first you were very vague, but you knew me. You smiled at me and called me Patrick. You were under no doubt about who it was that held you. And then you nestled in my arms like a child, like a homing bird, like anything that knew with certainty that it was where it belonged, and you told me how much you loved me, how long you had loved me.
You poured out your heart to me
.
And knowing
how Laurence felt about you, I was glad that you had stopped talking by the time he reached us. Now will you deny it, Ingrid?
”

Ingrid had had time, despite the rapid beating of her heart, to decide what she would say in answer to this.

“
I certainly do deny it. Do you really mean to say that you have attached any importance to something I said when I was half conscious?
”

“
You were telling the truth then, if never in
y
our life before. It had all the ring of absolute
truth.”

“
But not to
you
. You are crazy if you think so.
”

“
You knew it was
I.
You used my name.
”

“
When I first came round, perhaps. I knew it was you. You may be right. But certainly I was not speaking to you afterwards. It is much more likely that I was thinking of Laurence. That is my only explanation for what happened, though I can see that you, with your colossal conceit, were quits ready to believe something else.
I’
m sorry, Patrick. You have made a stupid mistake, and nothing can, be gained by talking of it any longer.
”
She pulled her wrist away from
his
grasp, and he allowed her to do so.

“
You insist that I am mistaken, Ingrid?
’

“
I insist,
”
she said, and turned away from him, and went back to Laurence and Arnold, from whom she could always be sure of obtaining comfort.

Later, in the privacy of her room, she was able to relax the vigilant care she had been exercising over her
demeanour
. Her mind was too stimulated and active to allow of deep, and for the first time, she asked herself why Patrick had confronted her so angrily, why her behavior was so important to him. Surely, all
his
concern was not for Laurence, because he thought she did not love him.
Could
some part of that concern have been for himself?

This was the thought that had been lurking in the background of her mind since Patrick had taken her into the garden. Now she allowed it to come out into the open, and looked at it seriously, but she found little comfort from it, for Patrick had not once said one word to reveal any of his own feeling. She decided
she
had done the right thing, but the satisfaction that this should have brought her was missing. She was filled with melancholy, with a deep sadness.

T
he sadness persisted the next day. She was glad that it was Sunday, and therefore a day when
services loomed large, especially the service in the Cathedral which was the official
cl
ose of the Festival, and when a certain subdued quality about her might pass unnoticed. Laurence and Arnold were with their boys, and Ingrid found that she was sitting with M
rs.
Pinder
on one side of her and Patrick on the other. Neither she nor Patrick had chosen it so, but Ingrid, for all the first part of the service, was acut
el
y aware of him, unable to give himself up to the beauty of the singing or the tranquil
l
ity of the Cathe
dral, because of the disturbance
his
presence caused her. The chairs were placed so
close
together to accommodate the large gathering of people that it was
i
mpossible to avoid an
occasional b
rushing of shoulders, though Ingrid knew that Patrick avoided it as much a
s
she. The well-pressed, immaculate grey suit, the sensitive hands at rest where her eyes could not fail to light on them, the fresh smell of a shaving lotion, all reminded her continually of a s
cene
she was anxious to forget
.
But after a while, the service itself claimed her and drove everything el
s
e from her mind
.
The choir sang an anthem, so exquisitely beautiful that her spirit soared with the voices of the boys,
i
nto a realm that was as much anguish
a
s delight; and from there on, the tranquil
l
ity that she usually found in this pl
ace filed her once again.