The Blue Rose (7 page)

“It seems such a long time since I have seen you.”

“It is—much too long. But it’s only another nine days now and then I shall have you all to myself for always. I’m finding this engagement rather a trial. I never thought it would be like this. One seems to be more or less public property.”

“You’re not regretting it?” she asked anxiously.

“No, my love, but I resent it a little
...
I suppose you wouldn’t consider slipping away to a register office with me to-morrow?”

Her heart leapt. “Oh, I would.”

“Just the two of us. Tell nobody. Save all the fuss and bother. Our love is such a very private thing. I find all these public congratulations most tiresome and rather indecent. What is it to do with anybody but you and me that we love each other? Just let’s slip off to-morrow and get married without telling anyone. We needn’t change the arrangements for our honeymoon. We’ll simply have an extra honeymoon at home before we start off.”

She was tremendously tempted. “But can one go off and get married just like that?” she asked doubtfully. “One can’t get married quickly like that in church, anyway, can one? Our banns are still being read.”

“Yes, one can. You simply apply for a common licence which is granted while you wait, and then so long as you marry in your own parish and find a vicar and two witnesses you can be married without any delay.”

She thought of Francie and of the lovely wedding dress which was not finished yet and which she was so longing for him to see her in. “I’m afraid Francie would be very hurt,” she said. “She’s arranged this reception for us, and all the invitations have gone out
...”

“Yes, I expect you’re right. We mustn’t hurt Francie
...
By the way, a lot more presents have come. I seem to spend my whole day at the bank writing thank-you letters.” She knew he was disappointed and she wondered whether she had made a mistake. Was it really Francie she was
thin
king of or that lovely shimmering dress? No, surely it must be
better
to wait from every point of view. It was
only another nine days, as he had said. It wasn’t worth the chance of hurting or disappointing anyone just to gain nine more days when for the rest of their lives they were going to be together.

“You weren’t at the bank much this morning,” she said.

“No, I’m a trustee for innumerable settlements and it so happened that two urgent matters cropped up this morning and I had to dash out and consult with my co-trustees. One woman whose trust I look after wanted to sell out some of her capital to buy a house and we had to decide whether it would be a prudent investment—and in the other case we had to make a switch of some shares because the people concerned were going abroad. I don’t think people realize the work it entails when they ask you to become a trustee—that is, if you’re at all conscientious. I seem to be a sort of ‘natural’ as a trustee.”

“That’s because everyone trusts you so and because you’re so wonderful at business,” she said. It always fascinated her when he talked about his business life. He lived in a world she knew so little about.

He laughed shortly. “In my next life I hope that I shall look a little
less
trustworthy.”

She felt out of tune with him. It was dreadful to have to begin this important evening without being in complete accord and yet there was no time to say more, for they had arrived at their destination.

IV

Rose was not really shy at meeting all his employees, though naturally she was very anxious that they should like her, but what she was afraid of was the wives of the other directors. There were three of them, only one of whom she had met before. Francie had told her that the best way to behave was to be herself, but it is the most difficult thing in the world to be yourself when you are nervous; and it did not help her that Stephen seemed so different in these surroundings.

Stephen introduced her to everybody and she shook hands with them all, but there was such a sea of new faces that she could only take in a few. She was thankful when the first part of the proceedings was over and she could sit down next to Stephen at the head of the long table. His senior director was on her other side. He was a kindly, elderly man whom she had no difficulty in getting on with, as fortunately nobody had told her that he was considered to be one of the most brilliant men in the City. They got to talking about gardening, a subject on which Rose knew a good deal more than he did, but in which he was passionately interested, and he began to pick her brains. She lost all self-consciousness in the interest of this subject, so that the people watching her might well have gained the impression that she was completely at her ease on a social occasion such as this.

The elderly director monopolized her for most of the meal, which passed much more quickly than she could have anticipated. Afterwards came the toasts and speeches, which she enjoyed because everyone said such charming things about Stephen and she gleaned new little side-lights on him. Stephen made the last speech of all and she felt a glow inside when he thanked everyone “on behalf of myself and my future wife” for their kind congratulations.

As Stephen sat down, she found herself quite involuntarily getting up and saying, “Thank you all so much,” and then sitting down quickly again. It had not been necessary for her to say anything and her spontaneous words were greeted with a burst of applause. She was not sure whether she had done right or not but in fact her instinct had led her to do just that little more than was expected of her, and it made a wonderful impression.

To end up with everyone sang “For they are jolly good fellows”, and Rose could hardly keep from crying. It was a tune that always moved her and this was the first time that she had ever heard it addressed to herself. She very nearly made the awful mistake, though, of joining in, and only stopped herself just in time when she saw that Stephen was not singing.

It was all over and it had not been such an ordeal after all. In fact she had enjoyed it. Fortunately there had not been much occasion to talk to the other wives, and when they left the table it was only to shake hands again and say good-night.

Back alone together in Stephen’s car he said: “We’ll go home, shall we? You’re not too tired?”

“Oh, no.” She loved his use of the word home.

“You were wonderful, darling,” he said. “I was so proud of you.”

“Was I really all right? I was so frightened of doing the wrong thing.”

“As if you could. You’ve only got to be yourself for everyone to love you.”

She snuggled up to him happily. “They were all so wonderfully kind to me.”

When they got to his house he left the car outside because he would be taking her home later on. As he opened the front door he sent a little thrill through her by saying: “I must remember to get a key cut for you.” It was extraordinary to think that in such a short time this would be her own home. She couldn’t quite believe it.

He led the way into the study and turned on only one light by the big armchair. Then he sank down into the chair and held out his arms to her. She went to him quickly. “At last,” he said, pulling her down almost fiercely on to his lap. “How I’ve wanted this all the evening.”

“So have I—all day,” she murmured. “Now I feel safe again.”

“Oh, Rose, Rose, how much longer have I got to wait for you?” He drew her head down on to his shoulder and stroked her hair with his wonderfully tender but powerful hands.

“Oh, to be able to stay in your arms like this always. You don’t know what the peace of it is.”

“How am I going to wait for you another nine days?” he asked. “If I were a magician I’d turn you into a little doll and keep you in my pocket all day—in my inside pocket right next to my heart. A little, tiny, warm, living
you
to comfort me all day
...”
Quite suddenly he sat upright and pushed her away from him. “I’m going to take you home,” he said. “There are some things more than a man can bear.”

“I don’t want to leave you yet,” she protested. “Nevertheless, that is just what you are going to do,” he said firmly. “Come on.”

There was no going against him. He drove her home rapidly and in silence. “You won’t come up?” she asked when they got to the door of the flats.

“No.”

“You’re not angry with me about anything?”

“Of course I’m not angry.”

“I’ll see you to-morrow evening? You remember, it’s the opening of the shop? I shall have to be there early.”

“Yes, so it is. I’d forgotten. All right, I’ll meet you there.” He kissed her good-night but it was a brief kiss. She only half understood his sudden change of mood, but as she undressed and got into bed she wondered whether she had done right in not consenting to slip away with him next day to be married. “But no,” she consoled herself. “He said himself that we mustn’t hurt Francie.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE next day Rose had lunch with Clare. She was looking forward to it as she knew that she would be able to talk to Clare about Stephen, and the next best thing to being with him was talking about him. Clare, looking as elegant as usual, was waiting for her and greeted her most cordially and they went straight in to lunch. Every table in the club dining-room was occupied but the tables were so spaced that one could talk in a normal voice without any danger of being overheard. After they had agreed to have the set lunch they began to talk of the opening of the coffee bar, and Clare said how much she hoped that it would be a success because Francie and Derek had put so much into it—so much of their hearts as well as every penny of their capital. “We must just pray for them,” she said.

“But I’m sure it will be a success,” Rose replied. “They are so certain of it themselves. It has never even occurred to them that it might fail.”

Clare smiled and gave a little shrug of her well-tailored shoulders. “Do you think confidence is the only thing necessary for success?” she asked.

“Well, it’s a very important thing, isn’t it?” Rose asked.

“I should feel more sanguine if they had had more experience,” Clare said. “To my mind experience is the greatest asset in any undertaking
...
Have you ever noticed how often a second marriage turns out better than
a first? A failure in one marriage, far from making another failure likely, seems to be the best possible augury for a second. Marriage is a strange business, my dear—I might almost say that it is an art that has to be learnt. A successful marriage doesn’t come about merely by two people falling in love and deciding that they want to spend the rest of their lives together. It’s not as simple, unfortunately, as all that.”

Rose’s interest was captured. “What is the secret of a successful marriage then, do you
think
?" she asked.

“The secret? If only it were a secret, because secrets can be passed on. If I had the secret I would so willingly give it to you,” Clare said with a smile.

“But your marriage is a very happy one?”

“Yes, a wonderfully happy one, but I have had to put a great deal of very hard work into it to make it a success, I promise you. It hasn’t come about just by accident or by repeating some magic formula!
...
Do you know, it’s an extraordinary thing, Rose, but there is really hardly anybody in the world who studies the art—or call it the craft if you like, though I prefer to call it an art—of marriage
before
marriage? Have
you
studied it, for instance, or even given it a serious thought?”

“I always rather imagined that if two people love each other—really love each other, that is—that’s all that’s necessary.”

“Ah, that’s just it. That unfortunately is what most people think. That’s how every fairy story ends, isn’t it? The Prince falls in love with the beggar-maid or with Cinderella—all terribly romantic—and they live happily ever afterwards. The story isn’t continued, simply because not one person in a million knows the art of happy marriage. They just couldn’t write it. Take your own case. It’s very much like a fairy tale, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. It’s like a miracle.”

“You and Stephen meet in my house—fall in love at first sight and naturally want to get married. But what do either of you know about marriage? I feel rather responsible for you, to tell you the truth. For one thing I brought you together and for another I am so very fond of you both
...
Do you mind my talking to you like this, by the way?”

“No, of course not. I think it’s very sweet of you. Have you talked to Stephen about it?”

“No, it would be no use talking to the man. It’s up to the woman to make a successful marriage. It’s up to
you.
It will depend entirely on
you.”

“You frighten me rather.”

“I don’t want to frighten you but I do want to open your eyes to your responsibilities—and to your wonderful opportunities. You’ve got every chance of making your marriage with Stephen a huge success—but it
will depend on you.”

“In what way?”

“In so many ways. In every way
...
But are you sure you don’t mind my saying all this to you? I hope you don’t think I’m interfering?”

“Of course not,” Rose said again.

“You see, the fact I happen to know Stephen very well indeed does make it easier for me to help you. Normally you have to get to know your husband yourself—to study his character—but I can help you over that. Stephen at the moment is madly in love with you.” (Rose’s heart turned over at these words. It was so wonderful to hear through a third person that he loved her.) “You have captured him completely—more than anyone.” (Rose did not quite so much like to hear that there had been others, although he had told her so himself—though not one that he had proposed to.) “But your difficulty is going to be to keep him
—
and that’s where I think I can help you. I’m going to be very frank. Do you want me to be?”

“Yes, please.”

“Your chief charm for Stephen consists in your freshness
—
one might really say your naivety. He has never come across anything quite like you before. Stephen is very sophisticated. He is extremely eligible and naturally he has been a great deal run after. You can’t be rich, brilliant and extraordinarily good looking without being run after. Considering everything he is wonderfully little spoilt—but he
is
spoilt just a little all the same. He wouldn’t be human if he weren’t. You might say that things have come a little bit too easily to him—fallen into his lap. He’s never really had to struggle for anything as most of us have to
...
And now
you
have fallen into his lap. He hasn’t had to lift a finger to get you. I don’t mean that unkindly, but it’s true, isn’t it?”

Rose could not deny it, though she did not altogether like Clare’s being so well aware of it.

“And you’re a brand-new taste to him,” the latter went on. “A surprising new fruit. A new drink. Rather like the taste of fresh water to a man who has lived all his life on exotic wines. But if you are used to exotic wines the taste of water, however fresh and delicious at first, is going to pall after a little while. The very qualities in you that have so attracted him are going to be the greatest danger to you in the long run. To put it brutally
your
great danger is that he is going to find you a little bit insipid after a time.”

“Then what am I to do?” Rose answered unhappily, biting her lip. She remembered only too well how Stephen had told her that she was like the sight and sound of running water to a man dying of thirst. She had been so pleased with this compliment at the time, but now it had taken on a very different significance.

“There is a great deal you can do,” Clare continued. “If I didn’t feel that you could do anything about it, do you think I should be so cruel as to mention it?”

“No, I’m sure you wouldn’t.”

“The first thing is that after you are married you won’t be able to afford the luxury of being yourself. That is a luxury, as a matter of fact, a gross self-indulgence, which
no
woman in the world can afford.”

“But Francie does,” Rose put in quickly.

“Oh, Francie, yes, bless her heart. You’re right there. But Francie can afford to because Derek is unique. But I can’t imagine any man
except
Derek putting up with his wife being quite as natural as Francie is! I must say
I
wouldn’t like to risk it. And I don’t advise you to. I can honestly say that I have never allowed Clive to see me when I haven’t taken some trouble with my appearance. That is part of this art of marriage I was talking about. Rule one: never let your husband see you as you would not like a new lover to see you. Never let yourself go in that respect. And rule two—keep some mystery. Don’t let your husband feel that he has fathomed you to the very depths. Keep back part of your
min
d, part of your heart.
Let there be some place deep down inside you which he knows he has never touched. In order to do this it is important to have some kind of life of your own—if not your own work, then your own friends or your own special interests
...
In your case, I would suggest that you get a job. Work in the coffee bar with the Earles, for instance, as you were going to do before you met Stephen.”

“But Stephen says he doesn’t want me to work.”

“Oh, my dear, they
all
say that. They
all
think they want you to spend your entire life looking after them but when you do, you become so dull that they very soon get bored to death with you
...”

“But we want to have children,” Rose put in. “That’s a whole-time job, surely?”

Clare made a little face. “Do you think so?
...
But these are just general rules I have been telling you. With Stephen there are particular rules as well. You must bear in mind that Stephen has got into bachelor ways and you’ll have to be very careful not to upset those ways too abruptly. He has got accustomed for instance to going regularly to his club. He adores his club and would miss it terribly if he were cut off from it
...
Encourage him to go there. Insist on it if necessary. That would be the wise thing to do. Tell him that you expect him to go there at least one evening a week. Be subtle about it, of course. Instead of making him feel that he is leaving you alone, you should pretend that you are quite happy to get rid of him. That will ease his conscience. Say either that you want to go out with your own friends or say that you thoroughly enjoy spending an evening on your own. It is a great thing to keep your own friends after marriage, and I’m very glad to know that you have at least
one
great friend of your own
...
I saw you yesterday afternoon in a taxi
...
Oh, my dear, you needn’t blush, I can keep a secret.”

“But it wasn’t secret
...”
Rose began to protest, but she stopped herself, realizing that it was too late now to tell Stephen about her lunch with Tony.

“You needn’t pretend to me,” Clare said with a laugh. “That young man I saw you with in the taxi is very much in love with you, isn’t he?”

“Well
...”

“Of course he is, and a very good thing too. You hang on to him. You never know when you may need him. It’s the best possible thing for your husband not to feel that he has got the complete monopoly of you; and when that husband is Stephen it’s all the more important. You don’t want him to be too sure of you.”

“But surely one must have complete trust?” Rose argued.

“My dear, you are so ingenuous. You’ve been reading too many romantic novels. Life, alas, isn’t like that. It’s just that little bit of uncertainty that makes all the difference
...
I’ll tell you something that I’ve never told anyone before. When I first got engaged to Clive he said to me: ‘If you ever make me jealous it will be the end. I warn you, I shall stop loving you at once.’ And do you know, I actually believed him? I was so naive that I didn’t realize he was only saying that in order to try and protect himself from getting hurt
...
Two years after we were married we went through a very bad patch. We very nearly came unstuck. But thank goodness I realized in time what was wrong. Clive was too sure of me. He was taking me completely for granted. Since then I have kept him guessing just a little bit and now he is the most perfect husband any woman could have.”

Rose was feeling more and more confused. Everything had seemed so wonderfully simple before. She had believed that she only had to be herself for everything to go smoothly, but Clare was making her see what a hard task she had in front of her and she was not at all sure that she was up to it.

“And another thing about Stephen,” Clare went on. “You must have noticed how he adores his house
...
Well, don’t go and change anything in it whatever you do
.
”

“But he said I could change anything I liked and that if I didn’t like it we would move somewhere else.”

“Of course, that’s what he would say, but he told me at lunch yesterday how delighted and relieved he was that you didn’t want to change a thing—that you thought it all perfect. You have been very wise there, because there must have been some little things you wanted to alter
—
after all, every woman has her own taste—but it wouldn’t do in this case. I don’t think Stephen could bear to have so much as an armchair moved!
...
And then there’s just one other thing: be sweet to his friends—encourage them to come to his house as much as possible. That great friend of his, Robin Johnson, in particular. He has always been able to treat Stephen’s home almost as his own. Let him go on doing so. Encourage him to drop in at any old time. Stephen is
so
fond of him.” (Rose felt an unpleasant stab of jealousy at this which she knew to be unworthy.)

“Goodness, look at the time,” Clare exclaimed. “I had no idea it was so late. How I must have talked! But I do hope it’s been some help to you
...
J simply must fly. I shall see you this evening? And to-morrow evening? How nice
...
You
know if at any time I can be of any use to you you’ve only got to ring me up. I think it’s when one gets back from one’s honeymoon—the sort of anti-climax of settling down to ordinary everyday life with a complete stranger—that things are at their most difficult. For he really is still a stranger as far as daily life is concerned. That’s the time your romantic novels always skip. It’s just
not
a very romantic time
...